


It's just going to be you and me

by Butterfish



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angels, Anxiety, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love, M/M, Romance, Teenagers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfish/pseuds/Butterfish
Summary: Alfred thinks he's going insane; he keeps dreaming about a green-eyed guy, he hears voices and he keeps finding long, white feathers everywhere. Is the angel Arthur that is haunting his dreams real or is he making it all up?





	1. Chapter 1

" _Alfred - it's just going to be you and me, right?"_

_He reached out for him and their hands joined. The boy's fingers were so very warm when they stroked across his knuckles. Alfred knew his name, but he didn't know it well enough to say it out loud. His lips would move and he would speak without a sound, and the boy would always laugh and drag him closer to the edge of the building. His green eyes would be the last thing he saw before they fell._

" _Just you and me!" he screamed as white feathers blinded his eyes: "Just you and me!"_

* * *

Alfred woke up to the noise of his alarm going off. He reached out from underneath the duvet and clumsily pushed the clock down from the nightstand. It fell onto the floor and the batteries were knocked out and started rolling in underneath his bed. He peeked out from underneath his pillow and shortly eyed the mess before dropping it back onto his head. He pressed his face to the mattress with a sigh. He'd been haunted by yet another gay dream.

Alfred Jones was 16 years old and had for the last year been chased by the same boy in his dreams. Over and over again he would show up and they would act as a couple. Sometimes he was happy and sometimes he was sad, but he would always repeat the same question:

'It's just going to be you and me, right?'

Alfred threw the duvet off and stumbled out of bed. He squatted to pick up the batteries and put them back into the alarm clock before turning it off. It was black and shaped like the Batman-logo. His mom got it for him as she was busy in the morning. Still she always took the time to tell him 'good morning' and 'goodbye' before leaving; she was worried about him as well, but for reasons other than his disturbing dreams.

"Are you awake?" she called the moment he stepped out into the hallway. Alfred grabbed around the banister and leaned in over it to look down. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen while putting on her earrings. "Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Alright," he shrugged and smiled.

"Is Betty coming over later?"

"Who?"

"Alfred," her voice was stern, "your girlfriend."

"Oh." He straightened up and scratched his chin with a yawn. "No, I don't think so. It's Thursday, right? She's got, uh, dancing lessons on Thursdays."

"Well, let her know she's always welcome to join us for dinner," she said and grabbed her purse from the hanger. She looked up at him and pecked the air. "I'll be home around five. Remember to have lunch, sweetie." She waved up at him and he waved back at her lazily.

"Yeah, bye Mom." As the door closed, he headed for the bathroom with a headshake. He always forgot about Betty. She was a sweet girl - no doubts about that. Pretty as well; with her curly, red locks and freckles she'd been able to get a small job doing modeling for some make-up company downtown. But that was all there was to her, a pretty face and a nice smile. He'd started dating her thinking that a girl like her should be able to make any wet dream about the green-eyed guy go away. But so far she'd failed.

"I'm an asshole," Alfred mumbled as he turned on the shower and stepped out of his loose boxers. He moved in underneath the cold stream and shuddered. "I probably should break up with her." Then he laughed. It wouldn't be the first time he told himself that he would do that and it probably wouldn't be the last. From the way that she looked at his brother, he wouldn't be surprised if she pondered the same. They weren't meant to be outside of high school. But in high school they were the most popular couple to gossip about.

* * *

There were a lot of things that Alfred felt he should let Betty know, but which he didn't. That he wasn't the least interested in her was not even the most important thing. He heard voices. It was the voice of the boy from the dream and he would never be able to hear everything he said, but sometimes he could make out some of the words. He knew he was angry about him being with Betty and he always spoke of falling; falling from high above, like they had fallen from the building in his latest dream. The way he would speak of death and angels was almost suicidal.

Mostly Alfred tried not to listen to him. It was okay as long as he was among friends or family, but when alone the words would sometimes get to him and make him shake in worry. He knew it was all just in his head, but that was almost scarier than if the boy existed. He wished that he had at least a name to pinpoint him with; an idea about where he knew his face from, then maybe he would be able to find a logical explanation. Like when the experts talk about childhood memories that you carry around in your subconscious. But as a kid he had no friend with such clear, green eyes.

Alfred quietly flickered through the pages of his schoolbook. Class was close to being dismissed and it was probably for the best. Something had started to trouble him and he wasn't sure what. It was often a sign of one of his quirks coming forward. The back of his head was hurting and his tongue tasted metallic. He poked it out as he tried airing it a bit.

"Are we having fun, Mr Jones?" Alfred glared over the edge of his glasses. The teacher was keeping an eye on him.

"Nope," he answered and slipped his tongue back in. She lifted her piece of chalk and continued writing across the blackboard.

"Maybe you're bored? Would you like to go next?" she asked.

"Uh, with what?" There was a light snicker around the classroom.

"Reading out aloud."

"Sure." Alfred let go of the pages of his book and peeked towards Betty behind him. She held up her book for him to see the page they were on. He narrowed his eyes to read the little number in the corner.

"Page 46, Alfred," the teacher said. Alfred gave her a thumb up and turned to the page. "Line nine."

"Okay," he cleared his throat and leaned in over the book. The many words slipped in between each other and almost confused him. He closed his eyes shortly and took in a deep breath as he tried reminding himself that whatever he was feeling, it was all just his imagination. "Okay," he said again and started reading out aloud: " _Although his existence has been questioned by many modern historians, there is no doubt that his name will forever be remembered in the folklores. He stands before us today as a legend; the British leader, king Arthur of_.. King Arthur?" Alfred blinked.

"Is anything wrong?" the teacher asked him as he paused. Alfred's fingers spread out across the page as he looked at the name more closely.

"Arthur," he mumbled. The name occurred strangely familiar to him. The pain in his head worsened at once. He clasped his hands to his ears and grimaced. "Ouch!"

"Alfred?" Betty called. He could hear the concern in her voice. The teacher quickly walked over to lean in over his table.

"Is your headache coming back again?" she asked him quietly. Alfred nodded. "Do you want to get some water?" He nodded again. She stepped aside and Alfred pushed out his chair as he got up. As he opened his eyes, he could feel the other students looking at him, but instead of showing him sympathy they seemed rather annoyed. This outburst was the sixth he'd had in a month.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Betty asked. "I'll go with you."

"No, it's fine," Alfred mumbled and looked over his shoulder back at her. He gave her the kindest smile he could manage with the pain still vibrating through his skull. "I'll see you at lunch. Could you bring my bag?" She nodded and he slowly left class leaving his things behind. He'd hardly made it to the hallway before he heard the happy echo of the boy's voice in his head. It was as if he cheered him on for leaving Betty. He closed the door to the classroom and headed towards the toilets upstairs.

"Shut up," he mumbled as he started walking the stairs. He pinched his earlobes and shook his head. "You're making my head hurt!" But the voice kept whispering things to him that he couldn't understand. Alfred bumped into the wall on his way up and had to walk stooped the rest of the way before he entered the toilets and could hold onto a sink. He hesitated for a moment just staring down into it before turning on the water. It came out in spurts and he cupped his hands to catch some before splashing it onto his face. It was as if his headache just disappeared immediately. He blinked and lifted his head to look into the mirror. He was staring back at himself confused.

"Was that it?" he asked out aloud, but the voice was gone. He straightened up and gave himself a concerned look before he pressed his wet middle finger to the reflection: "Fuck you."

"Dude, are you okay?"

Alfred looked towards the door. Gilbert was watching him. He was holding onto a can of coke while looking him up and down before raising his brows. "You looked pretty dope walking up those stairs," he then said and grinned. Alfred weakly smiled back at him.

"I'm just having a headache."

"Again?" Gilbert sipped from his can and then offered it to him, but Alfred shook his head.

"I don't need more sugar," he grinned. Gilbert pulled the can back with a shrug and took yet a sip from it while leaning against the doorway. "Don't you have class?"

"Yeah?" Alfred laughed at the carelessness Gilbert had to his voice and turned the water off. He should know Gilbert well enough by now to be aware that the guy wasn't going to attend class if he could have a smoke and a coke somewhere else in the building.

He'd known him since 7th grade. At first they'd hated each other and they had always ended up fighting in the schoolyard. But since they discovered a shared passion for video games, it was impossible for them not to hang out. These days they mostly just smoked and shared dirty stories about the girls from class.

"You look like shit," Gilbert continued honestly. Alfred took off his glasses and wiped them clean in a piece of paper.

"I've been having strange dreams again," he said.

"When don't you?" Alfred grimaced at him, but he didn't add anything. Gilbert was one of the few he'd let in on his worries. He hadn't told him just what the dreams were about, because he didn't want to be accused for being a fag, but he had told him that he was having nightmares and that they sometimes seemed to play out in his head when he was awake. He hadn't specifically said that he heard voices, but it was in between the lines and he had no doubt Gilbert got the picture. He didn't seem to think less of him, though. He'd only said that he sometimes got the same feeling and they had laughed it off. "Was it a nightmare again?"

"Somewhat."

"Did you know," Gilbert said and his voice had an informative tone to it, "that they said that whoever you see in your dreams is someone you've seen someplace before?" Alfred gave him a long look.

"Really?"

"Yeah man." Gilbert sipped of his can again while nodding. "So if someone is chasing you with an axe, be sure to look out for their face! It could be someone you just passed on the street the other day." He started laughing, but Alfred couldn't even manage a smile. He wasn't sure he liked this new knowledge. As he didn't react, Gilbert cleared his throat: "Uhm, do you want to go have a smoke?" Alfred shook his head.

"Sorry man, I promised Betty I would meet her at lunch." Gilbert shrugged.

"Your choice. But hey, did you know Annie likes you? If I were you, I would go fuck her instead!"

Alfred laughed: "You would go for anything with boobs!"

"Right on," Gilbert smiled. He raised his can. "Well, see you around." Alfred waved him off and put his glasses back on. He blinked at his reflection with a little smile. Everything seemed so surreal when he talked to normal guys like Gilbert; as if he just made it all up. His mom seemed to think so. She'd suggested he went to see a doctor the very day he told her about the voices. She hadn't forced him yet though, probably because he didn't appear ill. It had only started to worsen recently, but as it started it all happened quickly. His headaches appeared often now, the metallic taste sometimes made him feel like puking and the voices sounded more and more like a psycho's demands to him. Sometimes it sounded like the voice wanted for him to kill himself. But he wasn't sure.

The loud flutter from a captured bird made Alfred turn around. He was puzzled by the sound that came from the stall the furthest away from him. It sounded like the animal was trying to escape from it, but couldn't find its way out. He looked around. The toilet had no windows and only an old, closed-down ventilation that had stopped working ages ago. There was no way a bird could've flown in here. Still, he hesitatingly walked towards the stall.

"Hey?" he called out. He got no answer, but the fluttering stopped for a second but then started again with more power. Alfred wrinkled his brows nervously. No one ever used these last stalls. The cleaning ladies somewhat avoided them. They always reeked and had pools of water and used paper on the floor. They were the stalls used for bullying weak kids. He'd seen before how boys had been locked in there and kept until they could hardly breathe in the smell. If an animal had really been captured in there it should've been dead by now.

Alfred grabbed around the handle and took in a deep breath before he pushed the door open. He cringed at the sight before him. There was no bird, but a dirty toilet someone hadn't flushed and paper clinging onto the walls covered in writing. But what caught his eye was a white feather falling down through the air. He reached out and grabbed it before it landed on the floor and he held it out to take a look at it. It was huge. Way too big to fit any bird and way too soft and fine. Running his fingers across it was like running his fingers through woman's hair. He shuddered at the thought and looked around to make sure no one was watching him as he tugged the feather into his jeans and pulled his shirt down over it to hide it away. He knew this had something to do with him.

For the past three weeks Alfred had been finding feathers like this everywhere. As he got home and opened his drawer, he counted eight feathers all alike. With this one he'd found nine altogether. He pulled up his shirt and dropped the ninth feather down to the rest before closing his drawer again with a sigh. It could be that most of it happened in his head, but it was things like these that kept him worried whether he or the world was going insane.

* * *

_The boy was skipping across the big lawn while laughing and fluttering with his big, bright wings. Alfred was chasing him smiling. "Do you see me? Do you?" the boy laughed and Alfred nodded:_

" _I do!" The boy turned around and reached out for him and Alfred grabbed him by the hands as he stepped in close. He started speaking, but Alfred couldn't understand what he was saying and as he asked him to repeat, he just kept whispering:_

" _Do you see me? Do you see me?" Alfred started shaking his shoulders, but he wouldn't stop repeating the same words over and over again. Then he shook his head and whispered: "Alfred - it's just going to be you and me, right?"_

_It was as if his wings exploded. Suddenly blinded by white feathers, Alfred felt himself falling. He tried to reach out for something, but there was nothing for him to grab onto on his way down. He could taste blood in his mouth. He gagged on it and spat it out and his head started hurting, but as he reached to the back of it, he only found a big, open wound leading through his skull._

* * *

Alfred sat straight up in his bed with a shout. His forehead was wet and drops of sweat were clinging onto his skin. He ran his arm across his face to wipe it off as he took in a deep breath. This time the dream had been very real. He'd almost felt the bullet as it flew through the air towards him. Instantly he touched the back of his head, but of course there was nothing to be found. He was just starting to feel the headache coming back.

"Fuck… That was too real," he mumbled and shook his head. He looked towards his alarm clock. It was only two at night and he had plenty of hours to sleep in. Still he didn't feel like sleeping at all. He swung his legs out of bed and shuddered as his feet touched the cold floor. He curled his toes and for a moment just watched them as he tried to calm down his heart. It was still racing and sweat was constantly slipping down the sides of his face. He wiped it off again before standing up and opening the drawer in his nightstand to look for his cigarettes. He found the crumbled package in the back and pulled it out to look inside of it. He only had three cigarettes left despite the fact that he bought them yesterday. "I thought I only had one," he mumbled and shook the cigarettes around before looking inside the drawer to see if they fell out, but there was nothing but a bit of dust, a lighter and an old love letter in there. He pulled out the lighter and lit a single smoke before putting the rest back into the drawer. He then tip-toed across the floor, trying to make as little noise as possible, as he went to open his window.

Outside the night was cold. He felt the wind blow in on his face and dry out the sweat. It was a wonderful feeling and he smiled at the moon as he took his first puff of the smoke. The taste of nicotine always calmed him down.

He didn't felt the need to smoke before he started in high school a year ago and he'd always been able to turn down Gilbert's offers. But as he started having nightmares, the guy convinced him that a smoke could make it all go away. Strangely enough it had actually helped him the first month. Then the effect stopped. These days he just couldn't help but to smoke every now and then. He knew it had become an addiction, but he would rather be addicted to cigarettes than medication. If he was supposed to swallow pills to calm down, then he preferred getting the same effect from nicotine. After all - who knew what medicine would do to him in the long go?

Alfred shook his cigarette out the window and watched as the ash dropped off and was caught by the wind. He leaned out over the sill and looked down at the lawn as he wondered how much it would hurt to fall from up here. There was only one floor down, but if he was unlucky he could probably still break his neck. He took yet a puff of his smoke while grinning at himself. Since when had he started to consider such odd things?

Alfred dropped his cigarette out of the window and reached for the knob as he heard the light sound of wings fluttering. It was so delicate that he could've easily missed it. It started lightly but then the bashing got more and more hectic and it came closer and closer to his back.

Alfred took in a deep breath. He could feel the hair on his arms raise as a cold shudder went down his spine. The bird was back. Whatever it was, it was back. He wanted to look, but found himself frozen in his position by the window. The blood in him began to rush. His heart pounded so quickly that it almost drowned out any other noise in the room. The nagging voice of the boy started shouting things at him again. He yelled about love and pain and being left behind, and how could he? - How  _dare_  he leave him behind?

Then Alfred turned around. The voice stopped immediately. He looked around the room and gasped in a big mouthful of air as he realised that he was alone. He hadn't even noticed he was holding his breath. He leaned back against the sill as he panted out of breath. It had just been another one of his dreams.

"That was…" Alfred shook his head and pressed his fingers to his sweaty, red cheeks. "That was strange…" He laughed shortly, but then he remembered that he was supposed to be quiet. He sucked in his lips. He suddenly felt like laughing very loudly at himself, but he managed to keep it in and turn to close the open window. The fresh, cold air was now filling up the room and making him feel fully awake. He could still taste the nicotine on his tongue, but the metallic taste was completely gone. In relief he staggered back to his bed and grabbed at his duvet to crawl back up. A feather was sticking out from it. He hesitated, but then he pulled at the end of it and slowly withdrew a long, fine feather from the cover. It was similar to the one he'd found at the toilets earlier. He carefully put it on the nightstand and looked down his duvet. Yet a feather was sticking up further down and as he ripped the duvet off of the bed, he found most of the mattress covered in them. He let go of the duvet and stepped back.

"Holy shit…" he mumbled wide-eyed. The long, fine feathers looked as if they had been neatly placed all over. They were shining dimly in the poor light from the streetlamps outside.

Whatever he'd heard had to be real. Something had been in here shedding off those feathers. And maybe it was still here. Alfred turned around, but no one was behind him. There was no one by the desk or the door. Still he didn't feel safe. He reached out and grabbed his pillow as he quickly stumbled out of his room and down the stairs. He made it through the dark hallway into the living room where he looked around suspiciously. His mom had left a single lamp on. It was giving the whole room a dim, nice feeling. The heat had only been turned off recently and as he stepped in, he could still feel it wrap around his cold arms. He sighed. Whatever it was, it was not down here.

Alfred threw the pillow onto the sofa as he lay down and made himself comfortable on it. He turned onto his back as he eyed the ceiling. His own room was right above the living room. He waited for a few minutes as he just listened out for any sounds, but there was none. Then he closed his eyes.

All through school Alfred had thought himself to be pretty common. He was good at sport, but not excellent. He knew how to do maths, but it was still a surprise for him if he got a B on a test. Sometimes he would have a girlfriend and sometimes he would not, but most of the time he would just hang out with friends and do nothing but to listen to music and chat. It seemed unfair that such an average boy as himself should start experiencing all these weird things.

He didn't want to be ill. No one in the family wanted for him to break down. It wasn't just because they cared for him, but also because they couldn't handle yet another sick boy. His brother Matthew had always been a bit off. Since birth he'd been very clingy and couldn't handle the thought of being alone. They'd been best mates when younger, but as Alfred became a teenager and wanted to be alone, Matthew wasn't able to understand it. He'd become hysterical as if leaving Alfred alone for a few days would kill him.

It had torn the family apart. His parents divorced and his dad had moved with Matthew closer to school and the hospital. These days he didn't see much of him, but he'd heard that his condition was only getting worse. It was as if he was scared of reaching a certain date and he followed the calendar closely. Other days he would look completely healthy. He would attend classes and charm all the girls with his sweet smile and witty comments. Betty used to go to his school and Alfred had no doubt that she'd only fallen for him because she recognised Matthew's looks in him. But how would she feel if she was to recognise his illness as well?

* * *

"Alfred. Wake up, sweetie. Are you okay?"

Alfred blinked. Something soft was stroking through his hair. He sighed blissfully and smiled lightly as he tried to focus on the face hovering above him. "Mom?" he mumbled.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Alfred slowly woke up. His whole body was cold and hurting from having slept on the small sofa. As he stretched his legs, his feet bumped out over the armrest and dangled in the air. He groaned.

"I think so…?" He rubbed his eyes and was finally able to see his mom's face clearly. Her blue eyes were dark with concern. She straightened up and ran her fingers through her hair as she kept looking at him. Alfred sat up in the sofa and watched as his pillow dropped to the floor.

"Your door was open, so I went to check on you," she said and sat down on the edge of the sofa. Alfred pulled his legs up close to his chest as he looked at her. "You weren't in your bed. You scared me." Alfred yawned and looked around. The living room was lit up by the sun. He could still tell that it had to be pretty early in the morning. He hugged himself tight and shuddered. He'd been freezing all night. Then he remembered why he'd fled down here in the first place.

"You checked on me?" he repeated and his mom nodded. "Did you see the feathers?"

"The feathers?" she asked.

"There were a lot of feathers on my bed." She gave him a stern look before she eyed the floor sadly. From the way she stroke her ear he could tell she found his words concerning. He quickly mumbled: "It must have been something I dreamt."

"You dream a lot of things these days," she said, "don't you?" Alfred nodded a bit and scratched his knees shyly.

"Well…"

"Do you still hear those voices too?" Alfred felt like saying no, but as she looked at him he still nodded. She sighed and got up.

"It's not that bad, Mom."

"I really think we should see your doctor."

"But I don't want to," he sighed. He got up as well and pulled up his pillow. She rubbed her forehead with wrinkled brows.

"You know I am not going to force you, but I don't know if I can trust you like this either."

"Of course you can trust me!" Alfred looked at her upset. "What is this about? Are you visiting Matthew later? I've been alone before!"

"It's not just about you being alone,  _Alfred_!" Alfred shut up. The tone of her voice was restrained, but clearly filled with anger. She walked around the table and then turned to point to him. "It's about you feeling well and being well." They were quiet for a bit. Alfred took in a shaken breath and hugged his pillow to his chest.

"I am okay, Mom," he said and looked her straight in the eyes. "I am." She wasn't satisfied with his answer, but still she nodded; maybe because she wanted to believe in it herself.

"I'll be home for lunch tomorrow," she said. Alfred felt odd having her changing the subject this quickly, but he didn't complain. "Is there anything you want to give Matthew?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "I think it's better if he forgets I exist." His mom narrowed her eyes, but then she turned her back to him and walked out into the hallway. He didn't hear her say goodbye before the front door was slammed close.

* * *

Alfred wasn't in the mood for school, but he wasn't keen on staying home alone either. It took him courage to go back up the stairs and peek into his room, but just like his mom had said there were no feathers. As he opened his drawer, they were all gone from there as well. He tried lifting his books to see if they slipped in between the pages, but they had simply disappeared.

"Did you take them?" he shouted out, but he got no answer. His voice echoed lonely down the stairs. He pressed his hands to his ears and tried to concentrate on the face of the boy he often saw in his dreams. He tried to remember his voice. "Are you there? Then show yourself!" He stomped three times at the spot, but nothing happened. There was no sound from a bird, his head didn't hurt and his tongue felt normal. He skipped to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror as he stuck out his tongue and pressed two fingers flat onto it. He could taste his own morning breath, but no matter how harshly he rubbed the taste buds, he tasted nothing metallic. Then he glared at his reflection.

"You're sick," he grimaced disgusted at himself. He pointed to the mirror. "And you are going to stop being sick  _right now_." He almost expected something to happen; either the voice to come back or for relief to fill him up, but things stayed the same. It scared him. He quickly turned on the shower and got ready for school.

His mom always went to visit Matthew on Fridays and if she had Saturday off, she would stay for the night. Alfred didn't really mind; after she agreed to let him be home alone without having her sister watching over him, he'd almost come to enjoy his lonely Fridays. But after the fright yesterday, he wasn't sure how to handle things.

He started by asking Gilbert if he could come over later. They were having a smoke behind the bike shed during lunch. "Sorry man," Gilbert answered. "No can do. Daddy is throwing some birthday party for Ludwig. I better be there."

Then he tried getting Ivan from the basketball-team to join him by promising him free candy, but he shrugged him off. He'd gotten a girlfriend now, so he couldn't be bothered to see anyone. Neither could Kiku who was normally easily convinced to join in on anything. He was having a test next week and since he got a B on it last time, he needed to study until he was sure to get an A. Alfred even tried telling him that he could study at his place and Alfred wouldn't bother him as long as he just hung out with him, but that just seemed to creep him out. Alfred wasn't surprised. He normally never invited Kiku anywhere.

His last hope was Betty. She just gave him this odd look. "But I'm having a photoshoot. Alfred, I told you?" He just shyly nodded and backed away. She probably did, he just couldn't remember it but he didn't want to look like a douche. "Maybe next week," she smiled. But next week wasn't  _now_  and it was  _tonight_  that Alfred feared.

In the end he found himself sitting alone in his room smoking all evening. He tried to get some work done and had all his schoolbooks laid out on his desk, but he couldn't concentrate on anything. Especially the history-book made him feel uneasy. They were still discussing King Arthur and the tales about him, but that wasn't what troubled Alfred. It was his name. Arthur. He felt he should know that name from somewhere, but he just couldn't. He smoked at least three cigarettes while just staring at the sketch of the man that had been printed on front of the book. Arthur, King Arthur, Arthur King. Arthur K. K?

Alfred let the cigarette hang from his lips as he ripped a piece of paper out his notebook and started scribbling on it:

_Arthur K._

He looked at the letter for long. He suddenly felt strongly about that K. Not K as in King, though that was a pretty common surname. No, the K had to stand for something else. He tapped his pencil to his lips while he kept thinking of last names that started with a K.

There was Kelly and Kennedy, Kramer and Kirk. He wrote them down. He hesitated at Kirk. Arthur Kirk.

Suddenly he heard something crash down the stairs and he cried out as his head started hurting. He dropped his cigarette to the floor as he smacked his hands up to cover his face. It had gotten all sweaty in less than a second. He gasped in air and tried to stumble out of his chair, but he almost fell and hammered to his knees. He pressed his forehead to the floor and clenched his teeth together while waiting for the pain to wear off. Then he felt the vibration go through the floor. He opened his eyes and gawked. Someone was running around with heavy steps. The whole house vibrated as if someone was skipping up and down the stairs, and the pain in his head started to form into words instead of ache.

' _It's just going to me you and me, right?_ '

The sentence was clear. Alfred sat up and stared towards his closed door. The sentences kept being repeated in his head, the boy's voice so clear this time. He could understand every word from beginning to an end. He was neither whispering not shouting the sentence; he was asking him.

"Who are you?" Alfred yelled. The running quickened. Alfred got up and held onto his desk as he felt his heart skip a beat. His palms were sweaty. He was scared. But most of all he was angry. "Show yourself!" The person ran down the stairs and around the rooms on the ground floor. Alfred hurried to the door and ripped it open. There was no one in the dark hallway, but the running was clear. He started jumping down the stairs. "I'll find you! I know you're there!"

Alfred skipped over the last step and leapt to the kitchen. By the time he got there, the feet had already moved on. As he looked down at the floor, he saw feathers spread everywhere. There were more than there had been in his bed and they were all glowing dimly. "I see them! I can see your feathers!" he shouted and turned around as he looked through the kitchen doorway towards the living room. The person was in there. He could hear them walk around slowly now. Suddenly the name came to him again:

"Is it you, Arthur?" The sound of bashing wings quickened. He walked through the kitchen to the living room as he yelled: "It's you, Arthur Kirkland!"

He'd hardly stepped into the room as he was blinded. The whole place lit up in a second before turning dark again and something hit him in the face, on his arms and on his legs. He screamed and stepped back as he held out his hands to defend himself, but he only felt soft feathers bashing to him. As he opened his eyes, the boy from his dreams was standing in the living room looking at him. He looked scared. More scared than Alfred felt. His green eyes were opened wide and shined of surprise. His slim, bright body looked like any other guy's, his clothes so common Alfred could be fooled to believe it was all a joke. But the bright, white wings on his back were real. They fluttered shortly before they folded in and rested close to the boy's back. Alfred tried to say something, but his mouth had gone completely dry.

"Do you see me?" the boy asked. It would be a lie to call him a boy. Suddenly this close, Alfred could tell that he was his age. At most a year younger. But the knowledge he carried in his eyes was that of an old man. "Alfred, do you see me?" Alfred held onto the door not to fall. He gasped in air.

"I…" The guy stepped closer. He looked him up and down before he held out his hand. Alfred looked down at it. It looked as bony, warm and lovely as it did in his dreams and unable to do otherwise, he grabbed around it and watched as his bigger fingers closed around his small wrist. The boy smiled.

"You can really see me!" he chirped. Then he threw himself at him in a hug. Alfred was about to fall over as his arms closed around his waist and the guy pressed his face to his shirt and started crying. "I've been waiting for so long…" he was sobbing. Alfred just stared down at him. Then, instinctively, he put his arms around his body and hugged him in close as he just kept bawling. The soft wings on his back poked to his naked fingers and Alfred couldn't help but to feel up the long, white feathers. His wings were shedding. They were shedding feathers everywhere. This had to be real.

"Are you…" Alfred almost choked on his own words. He cleared his throat. "Are you Arthur… Kirkland?" he asked. The guy looked up at him and grabbed him by the cheeks as he smiled:

"Yes, Alfred, I'm back."


	2. Chapter 2

As Alfred felt the warm light from the sun tickle his face, he slowly bashed his eyelashes and lazily gained consciousness. At that moment he was sure he'd just had another vivid dream. He could clearly remember the soft sobbing from the guy as he'd leaned onto his shoulder and whispered wonderful things about love and faith. He still felt as if he could hear his hot breathing as well as feel the tears clinging onto his shirt, and he slowly reached up to brush at his shoulder. That's when he woke up fully; his shirt was wet.

Alfred sat up and groaned out loudly as his body was moved. Every inch of it hurt. He was sitting on the hard floor in the hallway and as he blinked and got his glasses put on right, he looked down his crumbled clothes and realised that he'd been sleeping down here. He reached up and grabbed around one of the poles in the banister leading up the stairs as he used it to support himself. He staggered onto his feet and took in a deep breath as he looked down at his shoulder again. A big, wet patch was covering it. He tugged at the fabric and tried to smell it, but there was no smell to it. It had to be water. Maybe droll.

"But not tears, right?" he mumbled out loud and almost surprised himself with his own voice. He looked around. It was bright all over the house. He could hear the ticking from the clock in the kitchen, but he didn't dare to move out there just yet. Still he knew it had to be around noon. He smacked his lips and grimaced as his bad morning breath hit him, and he shuddered lightly.

Alfred looked around the hallway again as the memories from his dream slowly came back. He wrinkled his brows and took a step forward to peek in through the kitchen door. He eyed the floor, but there were no feathers. He leaned against the doorway and ran his fingers through his messy hair as he closed his eyes, shook his head and then looked at the floor again. Still nothing.

"Damn," he mumbled and slowly smiled. "That must've been one hell of a nightmare."

As a kid he'd sleepwalked sometimes, but he couldn't remember having done it within at least the last five years. That he'd been able to make it all the way down the stairs without waking up occurred odd to him. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. Maybe this was just another thing he had to get used to, just like the voices he heard and his many headaches. Still those were things that he could deal with when fully awake. How could he control himself when asleep?

"I'll just have to start locking my door," Alfred mumbled and then laughed: "Maybe that will keep out the gay as well."

"No, it won't," a voice behind him assured.

Alfred swirled around on his heels and shouted out in surprise as he saw the guy from his dreams standing in living room door. He was staring at him with his green eyes wide open. He was no dream. The sun was shining in on his face which was as fleshy as any other human being's; he had bushy brows, a small nose and slim lips which twisted up into a smile as he kept staring right at his face. He took a step forward. "Good morning, Alfred."

"Fuck off!" Alfred shouted and stepped backwards. His back soon collided with the table in the small kitchen and he felt it up blindly as he was still keeping an eye on the angel. He used his hands to guide him around it without loosing sight of him. "You're a dream! You're not real!"

The guy didn't look happy as he frowned: "I am as real as anything in here."

Alfred grabbed at what was closest to him - a dirty mug. He threw it towards the guy who ducked and grimaced as it hammered into the wall above him and broke. As he stepped away, the broken pieces crunched underneath his feet.

Alfred felt the fear build up in his throat like a lump he was unable to swallow.

"Alfred!" the guy shouted and grabbed at the other end of the table. He was looking straight at him. "Relax!" As he started moving around the table, Alfred did the same.

"I don't know who you are!" Alfred yelled back at him.

"You said my name yesterday, remember?"

"Arthur," Alfred nodded. The guy smiled.

"That's my name," he said. "Arthur." They had now moved halfway around the table and Alfred was again standing with his back facing the doorway. Arthur stopped at the other end of the table and smiled kindly at him. There was a pain to his eyes that Alfred couldn't quite understand as he was looked up and down. "You're just as I remember you," he said, "always at guard."

"Oh? Well.. I don't remember you!" Alfred straightened up. Arthur's smile fell and he let go of the table as he instead hugged himself.

"You touched me yesterday," he mumbled.

"That was a dream," Alfred whispered and shook his head.

Arthur sighed: "No. It wasn't." They glared at each other.

"What do you want from me?" Alfred asked after a bit of hesitation. He bit the inner of his cheek and rubbed his forehead frustrated. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to bring you with me," Arthur said. He leaned in over the table and stretched his hand out. Alfred stared at it. His fingers bended as if he was waving him closer, but he didn't move one bit.

"Am I dead?" Alfred asked.

"No," Arthur laughed. "Why would you think that?"

"You have wings," he whispered and looked up his arm and back at him. Even when they were folded in close to his back, he could see part of the wings sticking up. The white feathers moved softly whenever Arthur did. Arthur pulled his hand back.

"That's because I'm dead," he said.

Alfred laughed shortly and fake: "Of course!"

"You really don't remember?" Arthur asked. Alfred parted his lips to answer him, but in the same the front door was opened. He quickly peeked out into the hallway where he saw the handle move and his mom taking a step in. She stopped the moment she saw the broken mug. Then her gaze fell on him.

"Alfred?" she said and smiled puzzled: "What have you been doing?"

Alfred looked back into the kitchen, but Arthur was gone. The room was empty. He blinked and started to slowly walk back around the table while holding onto the edge of it. He narrowed his eyes. Could it be he had turned invisible? He reached out and quickly swung his arm in at the space where Arthur had been standing just seconds earlier, but he hit nothing but air. He really was gone. He looked at his hand and then closed it into a fist.

"That doesn't make sense," he whispered and glared at the spot. His mom moved to stand in the doorway. She looked at him concerned.

"Alfred?" she asked and he looked towards her. Confusion was written all over his face. She dropped her purse to the table. "Are you okay?"

Alfred most of all wanted to tell her that he'd just been attacked by an angel, but from the look on her face he knew that would be the wrong choice. She'd just left Matthew. She didn't need another son to go crazy on her. So instead he nodded.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine."

"Did you break that mug?" She looked down at the floor and he nodded again.

"I was making coffee, but I dropped it," he said.

"And you stepped all over it?" She kneeled as she picked up a few of the big pieces. Alfred scratched the back of his neck concerned while he looked around. He felt as if Arthur could be anywhere. If he was daring enough to show up in bright daylight, when why not while his mom was there as well? As she stood back up and looked at him, he shuddered.

"I'll just go shower," he mumbled. "I promise to clean it up."

"Okay?" She just watched as he passed her by and quickly skipped up the stairs. "Uh, Dad told me to say hello."

"Cool!" he yelled down at her and the bathroom-door smacked. She shook her head.

"Teens," she mumbled.

* * *

Alfred showered purely in cold water and sat for long on the floor while looking up at the showerhead. He had for the last few weeks been able to convince himself that he was going insane, but now he had no idea what to think of it all. He'd heard of people seeing things that weren't there, but those were the extreme cases. He didn't consider himself extreme. He was able to go to school and have a girlfriend and hang out with friends. If he was nuts, even a simple thing like doing his homework should be impossible for him. But it wasn't. But what was the other option? - that Arthur  _actually_  existed?

He turned the water off and grabbed a towel as he started drying his hair. He looked at himself in the mirror meanwhile. In between the steamed up spots he could see the shape of his face and his blue eyes. He leaned in closer as he pondered about what Arthur had told him.

"He said he's dead," he stated and nodded. He felt the back of his head throb. It was as if a big vein suddenly bursted and blood started throbbing through it. He reached back and tried rubbing his skull, but as expected the pain just started spreading and turned into a headache. He huffed: "Don't try killing me!"

' _You've already killed yourself_ ,' the voice in his head whispered. Alfred looked around expecting to see Arthur, but he wasn't there. He opened the bathroom door and checked the hallway. No one. It was in his head again. The voice was chuckling kindly: ' _Why don't you just come to me? I miss you._ '

"Fuck no," Alfred mumbled and dropped the towel to the floor as he hurried to his room. He grabbed at whatever clothes was closest to him and put it on. His heart rhythm had increased and he found himself looking all over fearing to see Arthur. "I'm not killing myself," he whispered.

_'I miss you_ ,' the voice moaned.

"I don't miss you! You're… not here!" Alfred yelled. Immediately the voice quieted and his headache disappeared. Alfred narrowed his eyes and zipped his pants as he headed downstairs. He grabbed at his jacket.

His mom called from the living room: "Are you cleaning up?"

"When I come home, sorry!" Alfred answered and slipped on his shoes.

His mom walked to the door and gave him an annoyed glare. "Where are you off to? I finally come home and immediately you run off?"

"I promised Betty I would see her," Alfred lied easily with a little smile. He waved a kiss at her: "See you, Mom!" Then he left. He jumped through the garden and leapt down the street. He wasn't sure where he was going. He just didn't want to be where the voice would be able to reach him with its nasty demands. So he slipped his phone free of his pocket and called Gilbert. Surely enough he answered his call.

"Hey Gilbert, it's Al - can I come over?"

* * *

"Did you and Betty have a fight?"

Alfred had only partly been listening to Gilbert's random chatting and the question came as a surprise to him. He slowly pulled his hand back from the bag of chips and eyed the television. They were watching Iron Man. "No," he answered.

"You seem down."

Alfred didn't answer him this time and Gilbert sighed and shrugged. He knew he was only trying to help, but how could he possibly explain anything to him without sounding like a nutcase?

They'd been watching movies in Gilbert's room for six hours now and it was getting late. Still Alfred couldn't pull himself together to get up and leave. He was worried that the moment he stepped outside and onto the pavement, Arthur's voice would return and his face start floating in the air.

Alfred popped the chips he'd taken into his mouth and hesitated for a moment. "Gilbert?"

"Mhmm?"

"Do you ever, eh…" Alfred scratched his neck and felt his cheeks go red as he tried to find the right words to describe his situation without making the evening into a therapy session. "See things that you know aren't real, but they're just, I don't know man… Very real to you?" He peeked towards Gilbert.

Gilbert was still watching the television, but the way his brows wrinkled showed that he was thinking. "Is it possible to see things that aren't real?" he then asked suddenly and looked at Alfred. "I mean, if you see something, isn't it there?"

Alfred laughed shortly. "Oh, well, I guess.."

"If I see something, I know it's real. No one else might have seen it, but I have, so well, it's real. Right?"

"Right," Alfred breathed. His heart clenched at the answer.

"Do you see things?" Gilbert asked.

Alfred hurriedly shook his head.

Then Gilbert laughed. "Odd question."

"Yeah.." Alfred mumbled. He brushed his hands for crumbs and checked the time. "Hey, I better head home," he said and stood up.

"But the movie isn't over?"

"Sorry." Alfred smiled wryly, but he didn't feel sorry. He just needed some air. "Mom wanted me back for dinner," he lied.

Gilbert shrugged. "You know the way out," he said as he pulled the bag of chips into his lap and returned to watching the television. "See you Monday, right?"

"Right. Bye."

Alfred went to the empty hallway, put on his shoes and grabbed his jacket before walking out.

The air was chilly and he shivered lightly in his thin jacket as he slowly started walking home. He looked up at the blue sky and tried to imagine how it would be growing wings and crossing it. Like an eagle. Or an angel. "Fuck," he mumbled reminded of angels and he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He found a crumbled, empty package in there. He knew for sure he'd had two smokes in there as he left home and he gritted his teeth together in annoyance.

"Fucking Gilbert," he hissed.

"No, fucking me," Arthur said.

Alfred stopped walking and just stared at the empty space in front of him. Then he slowly looked to his right. Sitting there on a bench by the bus-stop sign was Arthur. He was smoking a cigarette and holding one forward.

Alfred hesitatingly took it. For a moment he thought his fingertips would go straight through it like thin air, but the smoke was real. He put it between his lips and lit it while not losing sight of Arthur for one second.

Arthur peeled the cigarette free from his lips, blew out smoke and then smiled lazily. "I like your friend. Believe in what you see; that's good advice." His green eyes shun amused and he patted at the seat beside him.

Alfred sat down and coughed out some smoke. "Have you been stealing my cigarettes?" he asked.

Arthur just smiled.

"Jeez." Alfred looked down at his sneakers. He wasn't sure what to think or feel. His hands would normally be shaking by now, but the nicotine made him feel more calm. 'Funny,' he thought. 'I thought the cigarettes' calming effect had already worn off.' Apparently it had taken an angel for it to come back.

Arthur wasn't saying anything. He just sat there like any other guy and watched the empty road. Alfred was the first one to speak up. He rubbed his face and grimaced. "This is crazy. I am sitting chatting with… well, who knows. It's insane."

Arthur now looked at Alfred. His smile was gone, but there was pity to his eyes. "It  _is_  crazy," he agreed. "I didn't think it would be this difficult."

"What  _did_  you think, hah? I don't even know who you are! Jeez.." Alfred leaned back against the bench's backrest and shook his head lightly.

"I told you. I am Arthur Kirkland," Arthur said tiredly.

"But what does that mean? Why are you here? In my head." Alfred gestured to his head with his cigarette and almost burned himself. He quickly held the smoke at a good distance.

His hurried gestures made Arthur laugh. "You're such a douche," he said and Alfred felt his cheeks redden. "That's what I fell for; you're so naturally awkward."

Alfred looked puzzled. "You fell for me?" he repeated.

Arthur nodded and looked down at his cigarette. He was a quick smoker and there was almost just the yellow part left now. "We used to be a couple back in the days."

"Shut up!" Alfred growled angrily and moved a bit further away from Arthur. "I am not gay. I have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, you always do," Arthur said bitterly. He threw his cigarette into the bin and stood up. He looked down at Alfred with his cheeks red and his eyebrows pushed into his green eyes, making them look dark and angry. "I don't get why we're talking if you can't remember! You shouldn't be able to see me if you really have no idea who I am!"

"I don't!" Alfred chirped. He almost felt as if he was being lectured. He stood up to be at Arthur's eyelevel. "I really wish I understood, but I don't!"

"We were a couple, Alfred!" Arthur hissed. "We held hands in secret, we kissed and we promised each other that it would last forever!" He grabbed onto Alfred's shirt with his hands.

Alfred stepped back and grabbed around his hands as well. He could feel how warm they were. Like a human's real hands. And their hold in him was strong. "You're dead! I can't have been with a dead guy!"

"I died before you - that's why you're still here and I'm not!" Arthur ripped at his shirt. "Don't you dare tell me you don't remember!" His voice was getting louder and more desperate, and Alfred started feeling as if he couldn't breathe. His sight was disappearing. "You said that it was just going to be you and me!"

Alfred suddenly caught onto a memory; he remembered sitting in an empty classroom, running his fingers through Arthur's hair and chatting happily with him.

Then the memory disappeared and Alfred stared back into Arthur's hopeful face. He shrugged his hands off shaken.

"You saw something," Arthur whispered. "Didn't you?"

"No," Alfred said and threw his cigarette into the bin as he continued down the street, this time in a greater hurry than before.

Arthur followed him. "You did! You remembered!"

"It's all in my head! I am ill… I am an ill person!" Alfred shouted and smacked his head. His headache had come back. It crept from the back of his head and forward. It was as if the pain travelled by the veins around his body.

"Al-"

"I want you to go away!" he shouted and turned around a corner. Then it got quiet. His headache disappeared and as he looked over his shoulder, he was alone on the street.

Alfred grabbed onto the nearest lamppost and leaned up against the pole as he took in a deep breath. His heart was beating and his palms had gotten sweatier. He wiped them off in his jacket and sobbed lightly. "Now I am even making up memories," he whispered. 'Something must be wrong with me.'

But from above three, long white feathers fell through the air and landed by Alfred's feet. He didn't pick them up. He just stomped on them firmly as he headed on.

* * *

_"Faggot!" a voice shouted loudly. "You little piece of shit!"_

_"Crying, are you?" another voice chipped in. "What a kid!"_

_Arthur stumbled back and forth between these words and hands that came out from nowhere and pushed him back and forth, and Alfred wanted to do something, but he felt himself unable to._

_He was in a classroom. He could see everything, but it was all far away from him. As he heard a scream, he looked to the side and out of the window. There, falling outside from above, was Arthur, and Alfred stared his eyes for what felt like minutes before the body continued through the air and hit the asphalt levels down._

* * *

Every time Alfred was reminded of his latest nightmare, he felt like puking. He was sitting in his room with his homework spread out on the desk in front of him, but he couldn't concentrate on any of it. In his head he just kept repeating the things he'd seen over and over again; the pushing hands, the scared eyes and the body that slammed to the ground.

Desperately Alfred grabbed his cup with coffee and emptied it. He was on his seventh within the last hour.

His mom had left early; she'd been called in at work and she'd complained a lot because it was Sunday, but Alfred knew that she loved feeling as if she was needed. They could use the money, but at the same time he wished she'd turned them down, because being left alone once again wasn't comforting. He felt silly; it was every other teenager's dream to get to be alone in the house for this long and do whatever, but Alfred just wanted peace and structure. He wanted someone to tell him that he had to do his homework, and he almost longed for his mom checking in on him every hour to see how far he'd gotten.

Alfred stared at the history book in front of him and then slowly shook his head. "I should be studying psychology," he mumbled and then laughed, because it was so sad he didn't know what else to do. Somehow he wanted to cry, but he didn't have any tears to spare.

Alfred closed the book and pushed it to the corner of the desk. As he was about to head to his bed for a nap, he noticed a piece of paper sticking out from between the pages. He withdrew it and turned it over. It was the paper he'd used two days earlier as he was writing down possible last names for Arthur. He finished the sentence 'Arthur Kirk' by ending the last name correctly: 'Arthur Kirkland'.

Alfred sat for a moment and looked at the name. Then he started a list: he added 'feathers' to it, 'headaches' and 'voices'. He wrote: ' _the sentence it's just going to be you and me_ '. And he pondered about why he hadn't heard that sentence in his latest nightmare.

"Maybe," Alfred said out aloud and clicked the pen to his lips, "it's because it  _is_  him and me now. It is not  _going_  to be us. It  _is_  us."

Alfred wrote that down: we're now a whole.

"Wrong!"

Alfred jumped in his seat at the sudden shout.

Arthur had shown up next to him. He was reading the list. "There's nothing whole about what we have. Nothing at all."

"At least warn me!" Alfred gasped and Arthur looked at him confused. Alfred ran his fingers through his hair and sighed: "Man, this is too much to handle…"

His headache was coming back immediately. It seemed to follow with Arthur; when he showed up or said something, Alfred started wriggling in pain. As a consequence, Alfred reached for some painkillers in his drawer.

Arthur was watching him. "Do you want to know why you get these headaches?" he asked.

Alfred popped a pill into his mouth, filled his cup again and swallowed it with coffee. "No," he said and looked at his list of things. Then he gazed at Arthur. "…why?" he asked anyway.

Arthur smiled lightly. "You shot yourself."

Alfred glared at him. Then he shook his head. "You've really lost it. You almost had me! - but you've lost it." He grabbed the history book again and flipped to a random page. He didn't intend on reading anything, he just wanted to look busy. Then maybe Arthur would leave him alone.

"Doesn't it always start in the back of your head?" Arthur asked. He clearly didn't expect an answer, because he leaned up against the desk and continued: "That's because that's where the bullet went in. Bang."

Alfred smacked the book back down onto the table. "Why would I shoot myself?" he asked Arthur annoyed.

"Because I died," Arthur said naturally.

"I don't own a gun," Alfred said.

"Your dad did. Does he own one now as well?"

Alfred looked away; he did indeed own one.

Arthur peeled at his shirt. His wings fluttered as he started speaking lightly: "We were a secret couple. You didn't want for everyone to know that you liked me. But you promised me that when we were done with high school, we would move in together and go public with it. I was so looking forward to it. School was hell for me. I came out in my first year and that's when the bullying started." He looked at Alfred as if to see if he was listening.

Alfred wasn't looking at Arthur, but he was listening. He could feel his stomach hurt at the thought of Arthur being pushed around because of who he was, and his nightmare of arms stretching out from nowhere came to his mind. He shuddered. "I'm sorry if that's true," he mumbled.

Arthur smiled a bit. "Thank you.." He looked away. "It got violent. I know of your dream.. You don't have to tell me, I can see it in your eyes; you remember me falling."

"I can't listen to this," Alfred whispered and rubbed his forehead. For some reason he felt overwhelmed with emotions. He had no relationship to this imaginative angel whatsoever, but he felt deeply hurt with every word he spoke. A sorrow spread inside of him and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

"That's because your heart remembers," Arthur whispered. He'd stepped closer to Alfred and he put his arm around his shoulder and pressed his nose to his cheek. Alfred just sat completely still as Arthur started whispering to his skin: "That day I was pushed from the top of the building. I fell down outside your classroom. You daydreamer; you weren't paying attention and you got to see me fall. It all went so quickly, but I know I saw your blue eyes staring out at me. I just know it. And two months later you shot yourself."

Alfred got up so quickly that his chair was knocked over. He stepped away from Arthur with his blue eyes wide open and wet. "Stop this," he whispered. "Please, stop this."

"If you don't start to remember, you'll never be free," Arthur said. "If you… if you accept this and let yourself fall, like I did.. Then we can be together again." Then he suddenly looked up towards the ceiling. His voice changed from being sympathetic to stern and cold: "Your mom is coming home."

Alfred blinked: "She is?"

"Alfred!" The front door was opened. Alfred glanced over his shoulder quickly, but, as expected, as he looked back, Arthur was gone. "They let me go early; they got someone else to take over the shift. Come down; I bought us lunch at Burger King!"

Alfred dried his eyes off in his sleeve. "Coming!" he called.

* * *

Alfred's mom chatted about work, workmates and the weather, and Alfred didn't have to say much to keep her entertained. He wasn't in the mood anyway and it surprised him that she couldn't tell from the sour look on his face. He just ate his burger and tried to concentrate on listening to the news on television. The first item was a new cultural centre that should function as a meeting place for many different religions.

"That sounds like fun," she said.

Alfred licked his fingers clean from ketchup and looked at her. He cleared his throat. "Do you believe in afterlife?"

She gave him a puzzled look: "Why?"

"Just, well, they're talking about religions. Do you believe in anything?"

"I believe," she said, "that the best place to be is right here." She smiled at him kindly and Alfred just forced a little grin back. "What happens later on is out of my control."

"Okay," Alfred said and she looked back down at her food as she thought the conversation was over. But he continued: "Okay, but then what if I died-"

"Alfred!" she breathed sharply and glared at him.

"No, Mom, listen. If I died, do you think someone would be waiting there for me? Like, I don't know.. An angel or someone who loves me or-"

"Are you suicidal?"

Alfred blinked; his mom was looking straight at him with questioning, stern eyes.

"Are you, Alfred? Is this about the voices again?" she asked and she was painfully right, but of course he couldn't let her know.

"No," he whispered and looked away.

She wrapped the last of her food up. "Never think of death. It's too depressing," she said in a hurried voice and got up and left for the kitchen. Alfred could hear how she threw the rest of her lunch into the bin and he shuddered with guilt.

* * *

_Click. Click._

_Alfred was playing Russian roulette with himself. If he didn't know when the bullet would hit, he wouldn't get to be too scared either. For each click he started thinking he'd forgotten to put the bullet in at all._

_Click._

_The music in his room was very loud. He'd opened the door so that he could hear it from the bathroom. He didn't want to make a mess, so he was sitting in the tub with the barrel pressed to the back of his head. He was watching his own bare feet and wriggling his toes while singing along on the lyrics. Something about a boy loving a girl. Loving her so much the angels would sing and everything would b-_

_Cli- Bang!_

* * *

"I can't fucking take this shit. No way!"

Gilbert was watching Alfred walking back and forth between the bench and the football-field. They were both smoking, but while he was still on his first Alfred was about to finish off his third cigarette. "Chill," he mumbled. "Alfred, it's just school."

"That's not what I mean," he said and shook his head. He stopped up and looked towards the sky.

Gilbert dropped his cigarette and stomped on it. "What  _do_  you mean then? Is it the nightmares again? You never tell me anything.. You're getting cryptic."

"That's what Betty said." Alfred sat down next to Gilbert on the bench and looked at him with tired eyes.

"You've talked to her?"

Alfred nodded. Then he shook his head. "She talked to me this morning. She said I got to pay her more attention or else she'll find someone else. Not that it's going to happen."

"I thought you were so happy together.." Gilbert smiled, but there was irony to his voice. He'd seen this coming and with all the girls showing an interest in Alfred anyway, maybe it was better for him to move on after all.

Alfred sighed and started peeling at his jacket as he dropped his smoke to the ground and crunched it with his heel. "It's fucked up. I can't concentrate. The nightmares keep replaying in my head, you know? It's like I can't get rid of them." He grabbed around his head and leaned forward on the bench. "Fuck."

Break had been over for half an hour and class had started. Neither of them was in a hurry to get back, though. Gilbert wasn't bothered by anything, he just couldn't care less about physics. Alfred, on the other hand, found himself unable to concentrate on anything.

The dream about the gun still haunted him. He knew it was Arthur's fault, but that just nagged him even more; was he blaming an imaginary guy or had he started to accept him as real? If he was real, then maybe what he was saying was true and he shot himself once. Alfred poked his fingers around in his hair, but he couldn't feel any bulges on his head.

Gilbert coughed lightly and then stood up. "Listen, my ass is freezing. How about we go to town? Get a burger or something."

Alfred looked up at him tired and then nodded. "Alright," he said and got up.

The school building was situated close to the mall. They headed through it on their way into town and crossed the small backstreets to get to some kind of burger bar. Gilbert was happily chatting about some girl he knew who wanted to get laid, but Alfred only partly listened. He was feeling uneasy and as they turned around the next corner and ended up on the main street, he suddenly realised why.

"Fuck," he mumbled.

"What?" Gilbert smiled.

Matthew was standing in front of the milkshake-place. He was looking at the shops with a little smile on his lips, but it disappeared the moment he saw Alfred. His lips slowly parted and his eyes widened, and Alfred grabbed onto Gilbert to drag him back the same way they came.

"Run!" he hissed, but it was already too late; Matthew ran up to them and grabbed Alfred by the sleeve.

"Al! You're still alive! You are, aren't you? Thank God!" Matthew's fingers dug into his arm. He was strong and Alfred couldn't help but to flinch and wonder if he hadn't had his medicine that day.

"Yea, I am alive," he said and forced a smile. "Why are you here?"

"You have to watch out!" Matthew screamed and people around them started looking. Gilbert backed away a bit, but Alfred couldn't do anything but to stare into Matthew's anxious eyes. "Has he come yet? Don't believe a word he says! Don't die, don't die!"

"Has who come?" Alfred asked and finally managed to drag his arm away, but Matthew just grabbed him by the jeans instead.

He had a maniac look to his blue eyes. "Don't trust him. He has angelic eyes, but his mind is dark. Don't die! Just don't die!"

"Matthew!"

Alfred looked up and saw their dad coming out from the milkshake-place with two cups in his hands. He dropped them immediately and ran over to grab at his shoulders.

"Matthew, calm down!" he begged and looked at Alfred.

"I don't know what happened!" Alfred defended himself and pushed Matthew off.

Their dad took a strong hold of him. Matthew was still screaming and wriggling as he was dragged away.

"Don't trust him! He's a liar!" Matthew shouted.

Gilbert slowly crept out from the backstreet again and stood behind Alfred. "Holy… what happened?" he asked and stared at Alfred.

Alfred shrugged and sighed heavily. "Who knows. He's ill," he said.

"He sounded pretty serious," Gilbert said.

Alfred nodded. He did. And Alfred only knew one person with an angelic face. It sent shivers down his spine. "Let's get the fuck out of here," he said and turned around.

* * *

That same evening Alfred went to bed with his laptop and tried searching for articles, but he couldn't find anything that matched what Arthur had told him. There were plenty of nasty incidents about bullying ending in death, but none of them involved being pushed from the school roof.

" _Parents say he shot himself in_ -, fuck, no, this isn't it either," Alfred mumbled and closed down yet a newspaper. He rubbed his forehead annoyed and pushed his laptop down to the foot of the bed as he tried to clear his mind. He sat up and hid his face behind his hands as he took in a deep breath.

The voice had started speaking to him again as he left Gilbert by the station and headed home, but now it had quieted down. He looked up towards the ceiling and tried to recall how it sounded exactly. He tried to make it speak.

"What am I to search?" he whispered. "I need to know this happened. I need to know everything."

' _You won't know anything searching like this_ ,' the voice whispered.

Alfred grimaced as he felt a shiver of pain cross his skull. "Why not?" he asked and Arthur's voice spoke clearly to him:

"Because time isn't linear."

Alfred spread his fingers and peeked through them down at Arthur sitting next to his laptop.

His green eyes were shortly focusing on him, then he leaned in to look at his searches. "Time is repeating itself. We're stuck in this specific bobble of events because of you."

" _Me_?" Alfred asked confused.

Arthur closed down his laptop and nodded at him. "You're keeping us all here. As long as we have this unresolved thing between us, neither in this family can let go. Especially not Matthew."

Alfred sucked in a deep breath. "Was it you who made him go crazy today?" He pointed to Arthur and then closed his hand into a fist which he hammered down onto this duvet in anger. "He is already sick! Don't go messing with him too!"

"I am not messing with him!" Arthur hissed and his wings fluttered. "You are!"

"I am!"

"Yes!" Arthur nodded. He slipped down from the bed and walked to the window. He leaned against the sill while looking at Alfred. "This isn't my first time here. I've tried to speak to you many times before."

Alfred pushed the duvet off and wrinkled his brows. "When?"

Arthur smiled bitterly. "At this time a lifetime ago. And a lifetime before that as well."

"You're not being clear," Alfred said.

"A lifetime ago, exactly at this point in time, you heard my voice," Arthur said and looked out the window. "You didn't understand it back then either. You thought you were going insane, but instead of letting it go, you decided to medicate me away."

"I still don't-" Alfred stuttered, but Arthur interrupted him.

"Time repeats itself," he said and swirled a finger around in the air. "When I died, you didn't end it. You shot yourself to get rid of the pain, but that is not a way to deal with an issue. It made me stuck in time and I can't go on without you, because your heart still wants for us to be together."

Alfred placed a hand on his chest over his heart and he looked down. The pain returned; the one he'd felt when Arthur had described his story to him. That strange, sorrowful feeling.

"So time goes on and on. You're born again and again, and I come to convince you to join me in death, but so far I haven't been able to win you over. I have very little time, Alfred," Arthur's voice turned to a whisper and he moved back to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it. "It has to happen around the time I died and you shot yourself. In those two months our connection is strong. That's when you can hear me and see me. But after that… I have to wait for you to be reborn again. Do you understand?"

Alfred sat quietly and tried to make sense of all this new information. He cleared his throat. "How, uh… how many times have I been born so far?"

"Three," Arthur said and looked down at his hands. "But… this is the first time I got further than the voices. This is the first time you've believed so strongly in me that you've seen me…"

"Oh…" Alfred mumbled and looked down.

"Yeah…" Arthur wiped his eyes off. Alfred hadn't noticed, but now he saw the tears dripping down his cheeks. "I was so excited when you shouted my name. I thought you finally remembered it all. But you didn't. And you still don't."

"Why did Matthew scream today?" Alfred asked as he tried to make use of this chance.

Arthur took in a shaken breath. "He's scared of losing you again… Of you dying.. He was so, so hurt when you shot yourself. He feels something is going on and that you can see me makes him angry. He doesn't want for you to leave." Arthur looked at Alfred and then reached out for his hand. Alfred grabbed Arthur's thin, fine fingers in his bigger palm and Arthur smiled a bit. "I don't want for you to die. I never did," Arthur whispered. "But I need you so much. I can't take another lifetime of waiting. I just can't."

Alfred dragged his hand closer and started stroking it with his fingertips. It was warm and alive.

Arthur turned around, crawled further up in bed and wrapped both his arms around Alfred as he kissed his cheek. "Please come with me," he whispered.

Alfred felt his headache start up again and everything in his body started spinning. The more kisses Arthur placed on his face, the warmer his body got and the more his head hurt. "I can't. Stop," he begged quietly and shook his head. "I can't… I can't die. I'm not sure if you… are even real."

"I am here!" Arthur shouted and Alfred groaned in pain and grabbed around his head. Arthur slapped his hands away and squeezed his cheeks. "I am here! Believe in me! Don't doubt me now!" he screamed desperately.

"Stop!"

"I can't! You have to come now! You have to… die now!"

"No, stop!" Alfred shouted and harshly pushed Arthur down onto the floor. He gasped in air as his head immediately felt lighter and he stared down at him.

Arthur was looking at him with angry, upset eyes.

"You're not an angel. You're like the devil himself," Alfred whispered. "You almost got me-"

"Jump out the window!" Arthur shouted.

"Leave me alone!" Alfred yelled back. He got out of bed and hammered the window open, but it wasn't to jump. He pointed out of it. "Fly! Fly out into the night and never come back! Leave Matthew alone, leave me alone! I don't want your… sick demands in my head anymore!"

Arthur crawled across the floor and slowly stumbled up standing. He was still crying, but it was tears of anger. "So this is it? You won't listen?"

Alfred shortly looked him in the eyes, but it made his heart throb in pain. He looked away and silently pointed to the window.

"Al-"

"Just leave me alone," he whispered and closed his eyes. "Just leave me alone from now on."

Arthur reached out for Alfred, but he pulled his hand back before he got to touch him. "…At least go and see for yourself," he whispered as he grabbed onto the sill. "At school."

Alfred heard wings fluttering and then it all got quiet. He didn't dare to open his eyes until every little vibration of pain in his body had disappeared and he looked around. Arthur was gone. There wasn't even a single feather left on the floor.

Alfred took in a deep breath. "He wanted for me to jump…" he mumbled and looked out the window, and it was as if he suddenly realised just how crazy Arthur's words had been, how odd his logic had been. Time that repeats itself and being reborn and death being the only solution.

The cold wind tickled his face and Alfred closed the window again and glared at his reflection. "No more," he said. "Leave me alone from now on."

* * *

And for the next week everything was quiet.

Alfred didn't have any nightmares, no voices spoke to him and his headaches had disappeared. As he woke up in the morning and blinked, he found himself breathless every time he realised that he hadn't had a single, bad dream that night. At school he was even able to concentrate in class and Betty found herself charmed with this new, improved Alfred.

"I am sorry about everything I said," she smiled after class Friday, "you're still sweet." She kissed his lips and Alfred stood wondering since when not having regular nightmares had this great an effect on anyone.

"You do look good, dude," Gilbert grinned as Alfred told him about Betty. "It's as if, I don't know… you've let go of a big burden. Haha, that sounded gay!" He kicked a bin on their way home from school and Alfred smiled a bit.

"Yeah.. I feel lighter," he admitted.

But something still nagged him.

He could feel it when he went to bed at night and laid staring at the ceiling. It was as if his body couldn't completely rest. His heart would beat quickly, then slow down and then suddenly he would feel sweaty all over. At those times all he could think about was Arthur and all he'd told him. He'd disappeared the same night Alfred told him to just leave him alone, but it seemed more like a human reaction than anything else. Since he started hearing voices, he did a deep and throughout research online and everything had pointed in the direction of medication. No one had ever written that you could just wish your disturbed mind away, so how come he'd been able to? Was he some kind of miracle teen?

If Alfred had any worry left on his mind, this was it; how come he'd made it? But the worry grew greater over the weekend as he found that his drawer was empty. All the feathers he'd collected were gone and the notes he'd made on Arthur had disappeared as well. Maybe the feathers had been his imagination, but he clearly remembered sitting and making that list of things that had been happening to him.

"Fuck," Alfred mumbled as he searched his desk Sunday night, "this is too weird." There were no signs of Arthur left in his room and it pained his heart strangely. He sat down and stared at his laptop on the bed as he rubbed his chest and tried to calm down.

"I should be happy," he mumbled. "I asked him to leave. After everything he told me. All those stupid stories about what happened at school…"

Alfred looked towards the window. School. These days he felt so at ease when in the classroom or walking outside the yard, but earlier the school building had been one of the worst places for him to be at. He would always feel as if something was luring at him from just around the corner. Which wasn't odd if his unconscious had believed in Arthur's story even before his conscious had heard it. But still he felt weird about it.

_At least go and see for yourself. At school_ , Arthur had said.

Alfred ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the ceiling. "..I need to check it out," he mumbled and got up as the decision had suddenly been made. He wasn't quite sure himself what exactly it was he needed to check, but he hurried downstairs and put on his shoes and grabbed at his jacket.

"Alfred, is that you?" his mom called sleepy from upstairs and she stumbled out her bedroom into the dark hallway to blink down at him.

"I'll be back soon," he promised as he hurried out the door and closed it.

* * *

It was cold at night and Alfred jogged most of the way to school to keep himself warm. He could see his breath as a light fog in the air and he watched it while wondering what exactly he was hoping to figure out.

The story was somewhat clear in his head; Arthur and he had been a couple and as Arthur died, he shot himself. But was it even possible to love someone so much that they would come back to haunt you? Alfred had never been a romantic and he doubted love could really stop time in this way.

But as he stopped in front of the dark school building he mused: 'If I really don't believe in him, then why am I here?'

The building looked almost haunted as it rose from behind the hedges. Alfred followed the bushes around to the gate and gave it a little push. As expected it slipped open and he stepped into the schoolyard. Everything in here was dark. The streetlight couldn't reach in over the hedge and as the gate closed behind him, he was left alone in the shadows.

Alfred shivered and pulled his fingertips into the sleeves of his jacket. He looked around. By the bike sheds he could vainly spot a few bikes that had been left over the weekend, but that was all he could see. He took in a deep breath and listened, but the only sounds were from the street where a single car was passing by.

"It's just me," he mumbled and started crossing the yard towards the building. "Me and this place. Was it here it happened, hah, Arthur? Where did you fall from?" Alfred quickly climbed the stairs to the main entrance and pulled at the handle, but the building had been locked off. He swore lightly and tiptoed to the nearest window and peeked in. "Which classroom was I sitting in?" he asked. No one answered him. He stepped back down the stairs and sat down on one of them as he sighed.

He'd managed to wish Arthur away and to call him back seemed stupid, but so did sitting alone by a locked school. He grabbed around his head and rubbed his cheeks. "Please," he begged. "I don't know if I am going insane or what all this is…" He shut his eyes tightly. When he was a kid, he'd had no worries. The voices had started it all and made his life miserable. "Can't you understand that?" he whispered and almost felt like sobbing. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to die. But I don't want this either.." He took in a deep breath and hopelessly stared towards the entrance with wet eyes.

Then someone placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," Arthur whispered to his ear. "It's hard to let go."

Alfred looked up at him. He was glowing in the dark above him and his green eyes seemed almost magical. He smiled, and Alfred smiled as well as he sat down next to him. "Where have you been?" Alfred asked.

"Away," Arthur said. "You told me to leave. You were very… angry."

"Yes," Alfred mumbled and grabbed at Arthur's hand. He wasn't sure why, but he felt he needed it and this time his body didn't start spinning. It felt relaxed and happy. "You don't order people to go die. I can't- … Well, I don't know what I can or should."

Arthur smiled a little and squeezed his hand. "I know…"

Alfred looked up. It was a clear night and he could see all the stars spread out over the sky. "Did you take the feathers from my room?" he asked.

Arthur shook his head. "They disappear. When you stop believing in me or strongly wish not to have me around, the traces of me disappear." He looked at Alfred and blushed a bit as he mumbled: "I am surprised to find you here…"

"You told me to come," Alfred laughed breathlessly and looked at Arthur with raised brows. "I don't know, it's just… I keep having a nagging feeling. It's as if I can't stop you from being around."

"I know it's hard to believe. I might've been very eager," Arthur admitted. "But I just don't know for how long I have to wait. It's killing me. It's really killing me."

"But you're already dead.."

"Emotionally," Arthur said and grimaced, "I am not. I see you and… you're so much like the Alfred I knew but… you're with a girl. And you don't know me. And you… can't remember anything. It's hard."

Alfred took in a deep breath.

"It's even harder to know that right now, you're questioning whether you're making all this up," Arthur added.

"You got me," Alfred said, but his tone was flat and not the least amused.

They were both quiet for a while. Alfred was watching their hands while wondering if a hallucination can be this warm. Then Arthur spoke up: "Do you want to see where I died?"

Alfred nodded and they got up. Arthur lead the way around the building, but he still didn't let go of Alfred's hand and Alfred just let him hold onto it. He couldn't make himself pull back. To his own surprise he didn't really feel like letting go either.

They walked until they were on the back of the building and Arthur pointed up. Halfway up just underneath the windows to a classroom there was a pent roof.

"I fell from there," Arthur said and bit his lower lip. He stepped back and pointed to the thicket by the wall. "I landed there. I didn't get many marks, but some of my ribs broke and I hit my head hard. It uhm…" He took in a deep breath. "I started… bleeding in there, here," he said knocking to his own skull, "and… it killed me."

Alfred looked at Arthur. "Did you die in these clothes?" he asked.

Arthur nodded. "Same shirt, same pants, same shoes."

Alfred nodded as well and looked up. The roof was unstable these days; sometimes a guy would try to show off to the girls and crawl out on it, but so far no one had fallen and hurt themselves. But he could easily imagine the damage such a fall could cause to one's body. Especially when as bony and small as Arthur was.

"You were having a class in there," Arthur said and pointed two windows beneath the roof. "Biology, I remember. You'd thought about skipping it, but you needed good grades to get into the university of your choice."

Alfred huffed: "I cared for school?"

Arthur smiled warmly. "You still do. I know what you tell your mates and Betty, but I also know the truth. You want to succeed."

Alfred felt a shiver go down his spine and he smiled silly. He'd always cared more for his homework than he tried to let others know. He always made sure not to be the best and be called out for being a nerd, but still keep himself at a good level. He felt the best when he got an A on a test. "Well.." he mumbled.

"May I show you?" Arthur asked.

Alfred blinked. "Show me what?"

"That day…" He let go of his hand and instead walked to stand in front of him. He looked up at him and Alfred eyed him curiously. "I can show you exactly what happened at that time at that day."

Alfred scratched his arm and hesitated. "I don't know.." he mumbled. "You've told it all to me. And I am still not sure…"

"It's because you only know now. You don't feel. Say," Arthur grabbed at his jacket and nicely corrected it. "If you see what I show you… and you still don't trust me afterwards.. Then I will leave you alone."

Alfred gawked. It was such an odd thing to hear Arthur say. "You'll disappear again?" he asked.

Arthur nodded. "And this time for the rest of your life. No voices, no sweating at night, no nightmares. I'll leave completely."

Alfred tried to ignore the sadness that spread in his heart and he demanded of himself to think logically; he'd only know this guy for about two weeks. He had years of living in front of him. If he kept his promise, this could be a way for him to end a confusing, sad chapter in his life.

"Okay," he nodded and Arthur smiled. "Okay, show me…"

"Come here," Arthur said and grabbed Alfred by the cheeks as he pulled him down in a kiss.

Alfred wanted to pull back in surprise, but then everything turned dark.

* * *

_Alfred pulled back from Arthur's kiss and smiled at him._

_"The break is over," he mumbled, but Arthur shook his head and tugged at his sweater._

_"No, no, let's pretend it's not."_

_Alfred laughed: "Arthur…"_

_"I know," he sighed and let go of Alfred, but not before he'd pecked his chin._

_Alfred slipped down from the table he'd been sitting on and looked at Arthur. "You're off now, aren't you?" he asked and Arthur nodded. "Ah, lucky. Still up for movies tonight, right? It'll be fucking great!"_

_"Don't say fucking," Arthur said, but he still smiled. "Yeah, movies."_

_"Cool. Watch out for yourself, right? Take the bus home. There's lots of people."_

_"Off you go," Arthur said rolling his eyes. "Don't worry. Go to class." He waved him off and Alfred grinned before heading for the door. "Al!" Arthur called as Alfred's hand closed around the handle and he looked over his shoulder._

_"Yea?"_

_Arthur was blushing. "I am not scared. Because in the end… it's just going to be you and me, right?"_

_Alfred smiled. Then he opened the door. "Of course," he said. "Just you and me." He walked out and could hear how Arthur was happily packing his things. He smiled and headed past the toilets and towards the stairs as he spotted two guys coming up. He knew them very well, not only from the football-team but also from Arthur's stories. If there was one thing they enjoyed, it was to pick on the weak._

_One of them spotted him as he passed them by and he grinned: "Al! Hey. Have you seen Arthur around?"_

_Alfred shook his head, but he stopped on his way down and glared up at them. "Leave him alone," he said simply._

_"He's gay, you know?" the other said._

_"I don't know," Alfred answered. "Just leave him alone."_

_"I think he's up here," the first said and hurried up._

_Alfred was about to follow them as he was called for:_

_"Mr Jones, you're not skipping class again!"_

_Alfred turned around and saw his biology teacher waiting for him by the end of the stairs. She waved him down and he hesitatingly followed. "To class, now," she instructed._

_Alfred had no choice but to walk in and take his seat. He looked towards the door as the teacher closed it and he thought he heard someone yelling, but he wasn't sure._

_Alfred opened his bag and took out his books while only partly listening to the instructions given. He was tired and he just wanted to walk home with Arthur. Luckily they lived close to each other. He smiled at the thought and looked out the window with a little smile._

_That's when he saw him._

_Arthur._

_He was on his way down through the air, his arms were swinging around like a doll's and he was staring in at him. Alfred felt every little hair on his body raise as he looked out and straight into his green eyes. It was as if time froze for a moment and he just saw his boyfriend's face slowly disappear out of sight until he was completely gone._

_Alfred didn't hear any screams, but he heard shouting from above as he jumped out of his chair and pressed himself flat against the window. Down there in the bushes Arthur was lying. His body was twisted to the side and his eyes were staring out into the air. Then someone started screaming. Alfred didn't realise it at first, but as he grabbed around his throat, he felt his Adam's apple jump._

_He was screaming. He didn't have to run down to know that Arthur was dead. And that made him scream even louder._

* * *

"Jeez!" Alfred stepped back and Arthur's lips slipped free of his own. He gasped in air and stumbled down to sit on the cold ground. He was staring over at the thicket where Arthur said he landed. "Fuck…" he mumbled and hid his face. He realised he was crying. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and even as he wiped them off in his sleeve, they just kept coming.

Arthur slowly walked over and kneeled next to him. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Alfred shook his head. "I know it," he said and stared at Arthur before he grabbed at him and pulled him into a tight hug. "I just know it. I can.. feel it. This is fucking insane. How could I forget?"

Arthur was shaking lightly in his arms and he pressed his lips to his ear. "Do you believe me now?" he asked with faint hope to his voice, and a smile broke out on his lips as Alfred nodded.

"I believe you…"

Alfred couldn't explain what was inside of him, but it was as if his heart suddenly opened up and everything stood clear to him. As he stared up at the classroom, he clearly imagined Arthur and he sitting in there chatting, kissing and having fun. And he remembered more than just that day; suddenly memories about listening to music together, going on holidays and preparing dinner popped up in his mind. It was as if his former life was returning to him and he held onto Arthur more strongly as he could hardly breathe. The feelings overwhelmed him. He thought his heart was going to burst.

"We used to sleep in the same bed," Alfred whispered and Arthur nodded happily. "We used to… stay up all night and play videogames and you… gave me that ugly sweater-"

Arthur slapped him with a grin and even Alfred had to laugh.

"It's… wow…" he mumbled as he slowly let go of Arthur and looked at him. "It's wild."

"I know. It must be," Arthur said and ran his fingertips down Alfred's cheeks. He closed his eyes and whispered: "I can't believe you really remember."

Alfred gently grabbed Arthur's hands and squeezed them kindly. "Arthur," he said and Arthur looked at him. Alfred bit his lip. Then he asked: "What do I need to do now?"

Arthur stared him in the eyes. "You need to die."

* * *

"Eating painkillers seem less dramatic."

"You can't die like that. You have to fall. You have to die the way I did."

Alfred took in a shaken breath and peeled off his shoes in the hallway. He was trying to be as quiet as possibly not to wake up his mom again. He'd been gone for more than two hours and he supposed she'd gone back to bed. Still the house seemed strangely quiet. "I don't get the logic," Alfred whispered but Arthur just patted his back.

"Trust me," he begged and Alfred did.

He tip-toed upstairs and into his own room. He turned on the light and looked around. It looked as if someone had been messing through his stuff; papers were spread on the floor and his closet was open. But nothing was missing. 'Strange,' he pondered, but Arthur didn't give him much time to think. He was already opening the window.

"A fall from here should be great enough," Arthur said and looked out.

Alfred slowly walked over and looked down as well. He'd been thinking about it before; if falling from his own window would kill him or not. Somehow the thought of not dying and just lying there in pain was just as scary as death itself.

"You're shaking," Arthur said as he touched Alfred's arm.

Alfred nodded and took in a deep breath. "I am about to die…" he said.

Arthur looked him over carefully. "Are you sure you're ready?" he asked. It was clear to his eyes he was hoping for a yes, and he got one:

"Yeah," Alfred said. He pondered for a moment, and then he nodded again. "Yeah, I am. I don't know, you scared me earlier, but now that I know… It's like, it's inside of me. It just makes sense. Dying just makes sense." He grabbed onto the sill as he leaned out to look down into the garden. "But what about my mom? And my friends…"

"Matthew will be free," Arthur said. "It'll be sad for all of them. But you'll set them free."

Alfred nodded and he slowly crawled onto the sill. "I suppose…" he said.

Arthur's arm closed around his waist and he felt his nose dig into his nape. "I'll be right here with you," he whispered. "I'll be here when you fall and when you wake up again."

"And then what?" Alfred asked harshly. "What will happen when I wake up again? Where will we go?"

Arthur hesitated. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "But I know it'll be good. We'll be together. That can only be good."

The chilly wind blew in on Alfred's face as he leaned out the window. He tried not to look down but just watched the sky. He pondered if he should've left a note or something, but he hadn't even thought about that. He just knew that he, Alfred Jones, was doing what was best for everyone. He was finally convinced. And he wasn't about to go back and touch anything from his old life again. Now was the moment.

"Okay," he whispered and closed his eyes.

Then his mom screamed: "Alfred!"

Alfred grabbed onto the sides of the window as he was about to fall and he looked around confused. There on the pavement his mom was standing. She'd wrapped a jacket around her nightdress and she looked cold and confused. He could tell she'd been out looking for him.

"Don't do it!" he yelled begging. "Don't! We'll… we'll handle the voices, we'll get you help!"

Alfred gasped in air and felt his heart starting to hurt. The headache he hadn't had for over a week started hammering at his skull again. "Mom.." he mumbled.

"Not now!" Arthur hissed from behind and started pushing at him. "Jump before she gets in here!" he demanded.

"Stay there!" his mom shouted as she started running around the garden to get to the entrance.

Alfred's fingers were holding tightly onto the sides of the window. He wasn't sure what to do. On one hand, his heart was begging him not to let go of everything he'd just realised. But on the other hand he'd seen his mom's scared face. It made him feel guilty. So very guilty.

"What am I doing?" he whispered and looked down. "I'm… committing suicide?"

"Jump!" Arthur shouted. He was sobbing now and hanging onto Alfred's neck. "Please, no. Please…"

"I can't," Alfred whispered and shook his head.

Then his door was ripped open. He was pulled back away from the window and into his mother's warm embrace.

"I am so, so sorry," she whispered holding onto him. Alfred could hear how she was crying, but he didn't look at her as she turned him around and hugged him. All he could was to stare at Arthur standing behind her with tears down his face as he was slowly fading away. "I should've listened. We'll get you help. We'll get those voices to go away," she promised.

And as Alfred slowly wrapped his arms around her, Arthur disappeared completely in the thin air.

* * *

A week later Alfred was on medication and Arthur didn't show up again.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred stared out the window. It rained, again. He couldn't tell the days apart - every morning, the sky was clouded and the world swept in grey. He would lose his mind if it wasn't for the clock on the wall. It reminded him that time did pass, even if nothing happened between the moment he stepped out of bed until he crawled beneath the duvet. It was dull. 'But I guess it's the same for everyone,' he thought and glanced back at Gilbert.

He was sat on the floor, controller in hand and his tongue stuck out in concentration as he raced a car around a track. He swayed to the right as the car did, but his concentration broke when he caught Alfred's eyes on him. "What?" he asked, his gaze flickering between him and the telly.

"Just watching the game."

"More like, just watching the gamer." Gilbert grinned, "Do you like me, or my skills?"

"Neither," Alfred grimaced and slipped down the sill. He sat next to Gilbert and leaned up against the bed. He feigned interest in the game, "You're good."

"Fuck off, I lost the last three rounds. You've been too busy stargazing to realise."

Alfred flustered, "I wasn't counting stars."

"What then, looking for a shooting one? Have a wish to come true?"

"If you don't watch the screen, you'll lose a fourth round."

"A little dream of Betty confessing her love?" Gilbert prodded, the smile on his face sinking deeper, "or a dream of... someone else?"

"No dreams whatsoever," Alfred said and, as GAME OVER popped up on the screen, grabbed the controller and started a new round.

Gilbert raised his brows and turned to face him better. "No dreams?" he repeated, and he leaned in to catch his eyes.

Alfred made sure not to look at him. "No dreams," he confirmed.

No dreams, no headaches, no nothing. The doctors warned of side-effects. They said, "You may feel dizzy and nauseated, and you could experience hallucinations," which was just great, because immediately Alfred imagined angels dancing around his bathroom as he clung on to the toilet seat, retching. But not even any of that came true. Since the night he almost jumped, everything had been normal. At least he thought so, he couldn't exactly pinpoint what normal was anymore. The doctors had an explanation for that as well.

"You've been under a lot of stress," the woman spoke as she wrote out the prescription. "Your body will need time to calm down and realise what it's like to feel at ease."

'It has been weeks,' Alfred thought, and he glared out the window again. The rain pecked the glass, then slipped down in streams. 'But I'm not at ease.'

His mom was happy. "It's good you're finally getting sleep," she said, although his eyelids always drooped as had he been up all night staring at the computer screen. Betty too rekindled her hope. She texted him quotes of encouragement, and kept calling to ask when he would be in school next. Alfred waved her off, the excuses were plentiful, like,

"I'm feeling sickly," or, "I need some space," or, "the doctor said-" which always worked because who could argue with a MD?

Alfred knew he had to face them eventually. He wasn't sick, not since they medicated him. He was just restless.

"Alfred." Gilbert spoke, and Alfred snapped his head back to look at his friend. "Are you okay?"

"Sure. Why?"

Gilbert pointed to the screen. It was turning itself off due to inactivity. The counter had dropped from five minutes to three.

Alfred put down the controller and shook his head. "Sorry, I-"

"Feel unwell? Can't be bothered?" Gilbert cocked his head. "I'm not Betty, you know, I do know you. I've known you for years. This isn't normal."

"They say the medicine will make me normal."

"Yeah, 'cause when I go home, I sit and stare out the window all day and say, wow, this is fucking great, there isn't a think I'd rather do!" His sarcasm was glaring.

Alfred gritted his teeth and threw out his arms, "Well, they say-!"

"They say!" Gilbert's laugh was humourless. There was a fight in his eyes as he got off the floor and started pacing around. His voice was a whine, "But Gilbert,  _they_  say I have to sit down and be a good boy and take my pills and count my blessings, and  _they_  know best." He swirled around and pointed a finger at him. "But what do  _you_  say, Al?"

Alfred wished he had the headaches. They would be easier to deal with than Gilbert. He rubbed the back of his head. "What do you mean, what do I say? What are you on about?"

"Were you ill? Are you ill?" he asked.

Alfred shrugged. "I guess? Am I?" The question was ridiculous, so he posed it back at him. He felt he was being prosecuted, and it got his blood boiling. "I mean, you know me, man, I just love staying home all day, doing shit all, that's right, that's me, Alfred Jones, you've got me pinned right down there."

The mockery wasn't lost on Gilbert. His face scrounged up, and Alfred knew he was about to go off on him. Then he reached for the cigarettes on the nightstand, grabbed two out of the pack and lit them. He handed Alfred one.

He took it with hesitation and had a drag, his eyes never leaving Gilbert.

"Did you see him?" Gilbert's voice was calm. He smoked his cigarette and sat down on the edge of Alfred's bed.

Alfred lowered his smoke. He could lie, but what was the point. "I did," he said.

"Was he real?"

"He was to me."

"-or was it all in your head?"

Alfred started, "Well, they said-" but he stopped. He looked up at Gilbert. His friend was smiling, so he smiled, and soon they broke out in laughter. "I can't get used to thinking for myself!"

"Now you're starting to sound normal."

"It's all a mess in my head," Alfred said as they'd both stopped laughing. "It still seems so real. The conversations we had, and the things we did. But if he was real - he was evil, right? To get me to jump, that's evil."

Gilbert had a long, quiet drag of his smoke. "Are people evil, or misguided?" he asked. He walked to the window, opened it, and shook his ashes out into the wind. "I don't know," he replied himself. "I guess he was evil."

Alfred too stood up. He walked to the window and dropped his smoke out of it. "He's gone," he said, grabbed the hatch, and shut it closed.

* * *

Friday rolled around and so, inevitably, did his mom's question:

"Do you want to come along?"

Alfred jumped in the car and his mom turned the ignition on. She hummed, turned on the radio, and hummed louder. The music deafened him, but he could still hear the rain drum on the roof. Sounds surrounded him, and he pulled up his hood to soften the blow. He needed to concentrate and prepare. This was the first time in a while he would see Matthew.

The incident wasn't mentioned. His dad served them dinner and chatted about the weather. His mom commented on the new dining table in the living room. She didn't speak of the family portrait, but Alfred saw it, and he saw the new woman in the photo.

"We are all doing so much better, aren't we?" his dad said to no one in particular and handed Matthew the bowl of potatoes. He stared at Alfred, awaiting a response.

Alfred felt compelled to reply, "Oh, yeah, wonderful." He expected a reprisal, but his mom just laughed.

"Teenagers!" she chirped, and his dad laughed too.

Matthew seemed odd. Alfred thought he might've been thinking of the last time they met, in the streets, and he shouted about green eyes and evil intentions. But as he turned to face him, he smiled, "Potatoes?" and nothing else.

Alfred accepted the bowl. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Better than you, it seems," Matthew replied and forked a slice of ham.

"How do you know?"

"You wouldn't spend time with me if you were well."

"Maybe I love my brother?"

Matthew smiled sweetly. "Maybe in your busy life, you forget I exist. I suspect you've got no projects on your hands?" Alfred couldn't reply something witty, so he chose not to reply at all. Matthew laughed, "I thought so."

Alfred didn't know what to do with his hands. He fumbled with the cutlery. "I thought you wanted me alive," he said. "Guess I was mistaken?"

"I wanted you alive," Matthew hissed, "but what's the point when you're dead inside?"

Alfred glanced around, but their parents didn't seem to take notice. They were engaged in a conversation about  _whatever_ , and his mom's eyes were completely focussed on his dad's as they shared, well,  _whatever_.

Alfred looked back at his brother. "I'm not dead inside."

"Maybe he was right," Matthew pondered out loud. "Maybe you did already kill yourself, metaphorically as well."

Alfred felt cold. He didn't dare to ask, yet he somehow managed to. "Who's he?" He wanted to sound strong and deliver the question as a demand. His voice came out as a shiver.

"You know," Matthew said, "Arthur!"

Alfred jumped up. The table shook as he smacked his hands onto it. "Did you see him too?" he asked and leaned closer to Matthew. "He wasn't just in my head, in your head - you saw him?"

"Alfred, what's going on!" his mom pleaded.

"Did he tell you everything? What do you know?" Alfred asked, while Matthew just stared back at him. He hammered his hands to the table once more.

"Alfred!"

"Tell me! Am I mad, or not!"

"Look in my room," Matthew suggested.

Alfred swallowed. He looked at his parents - his mom now standing, his dad still seated in disbelief - and he looked at Matthew's innocent, blank face, and then he turned and ran up the stairs. He opened every door in the hall, not knowing which one would lead to his room, and right at the end he found it.

"I'll be damned..."

The room was full of feathers. Long, white, soft feathers which seemed to fall from nowhere, more and more of them, like snow. They were everywhere. On the bed. On the table. On lamps, carpet, bookshelves.

Alfred held out his hand, and one fell into the palm of it. He closed his fingers around it, careful not to damage it, and knew it was no fake. He closed his eyes. "Am I mad or not?" he whispered.

When he looked again, his mom stood beside him, gazing into the featherless room. "What's going on with you?" she asked and shook her head.

Alfred could see the pain in her eyes, and he had no words to sooth it. "I want to go home," was all he could say, and she nodded and led the way downstairs again. They passed Matthew who was on his way up, and for a moment their hands brushed. As Alfred looked, he saw a feather in his brother's grip.

* * *

At home, Alfred couldn't concentrate on anything but his memories. The feathers. The headaches. The dreams. How Arthur spoke with him, laughed with him, held his hand,  _kissed_  him.

He walked around his room and groaned, "I must be more mad than I thought!" He caught the look of his own reflection in the window. He hesitated, but an idea had already prodded its way into his mind, and he couldn't let go of it.

He hurried over, opened the window wide, and crawled up onto the sill. Then another thought caught him, 'Mom!', and he hurried over to his door and calmly opened it. He tip-toed across the landing, leaned over the bannister, and peered toward the living room. She was in the sofa, watching television rather loudly while sipping a glass of wine. She wouldn't pay much attention, he decided.

Closing the door, he walked back to the window and crawled onto the sill. He leaned out into the cool evening air and took in a deep breath. The light rain covered his skin, but it only made him more determined. He tried to recall how it was last time. He held tightly onto the sides of the window and swayed along with the breeze. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Arthur," he said, and nothing happened. He cleared his throat again. "Arthur, I'm here, I'm ready. Just tell me to do it!" Still nothing happened.

Alfred opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. He half expected to see him standing there, or at least a feather or something, but everything was like before.

He reddened and raised his voice, "Arthur, show me I'm not mad! I'm here, in the window, so show yourself!" He let go with one of his hands and forced a tract at his lips. "Arthur Kirkland, it's Alfred Jones calling, earth to Arthur!"

The shout caused him off-guard and he almost fell, "You're crazy, dude!" A random drunk waved at him from across the street and laughed.

Alfred waved back at him, awkwardly, and then crawled back into his room. He shut the window and sat down on his bed.

"He doesn't exist," he said, as if his own voice could convince him. "He never existed. He was my imagination. Matthew's mad, of course he would've heard the story, he's just messing with me. We're both mad. Arthur doesn't exist."

Hearing the words out loud clicked something in Alfred. His nose dripped, then his eyes, and before he knew to stop it, his cheeks were wet with tears. "Stop crying!" he demanded, but it just agitated his eyes further. He grabbed his duvet and rolled himself up, pushed his face to the pillow, and waited for it to stop.

* * *

" _Three days left."_

* * *

Alfred lifted his head and blinked. His room was bright. As he sat up and looked at the clock, he realised it was barely six in the morning, but sun was shining through his window. "I never pulled the blinds," he realised.

Sometime during the night, the rain stopped. As Alfred looked outside, he could see the puddles on the road dwindling away in the heat. It made him smile. For the first time in ages, he felt awake. His eyelids didn't droop, and his stomach growled. He took a quick shower and then walked downstairs for breakfast.

He was making scrambled egg as his mom peered into the kitchen, her eyes wide and confused and her hair a morning mess. "You're cooking?" she asked.

"Negative," he answered, "I'm just burning things."

"I guess you're feeling better?" She leaned up against the doorway and smiled.

Alfred smiled back at her as he served himself a plate of egg and bacon on toast. "I guess I am," he nodded. He wasn't sure why, but something in him made him say, "I'm going to school Monday." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it had to be so.

Her smile faltered. "Monday? Isn't that a bit soon?"

"Why? The doctors said I need to challenge myself. Going back to school seems right."

"Yeah, but..." She watched him eat his breakfast and then sighed. "I guess it can't be helped."

It was as if now he'd started, he couldn't stop. Something else popped to his head, "I'm going to Betty's today. I want to patch things up."

"Oh? That's awfully gallant of you."

"I'm a changed man," Alfred said and winked, and he felt it.

She laughed, "If you pull any more surprises on me, I may need to lay down!"

Alfred licked his plate clean and dropped it in the sink. "Well, better leave you the washing then, before you get a heart attack." He let her peck his cheek on his way out, popped on a pair of trainers and grabbed his jacket.

He wasn't sure if Betty was going to be home, but he wanted to give it a shot. If he was to get better, he had to start at the beginning. With no cash for a bus, he walked, and half an hour later he found himself on her street. The clock had barely turned half past seven when he pressed the doorbell and stepped back to wait.

Betty's dad opened the door. He was a skinny man with glasses which doubled the size of his eyes, and he couldn't hide the surprise in them when he saw Alfred. "Oh, Alfred, it's been a while," he said.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," Alfred said, "I know it's early. I just really need to speak to Betty."

"Does she know you're coming over?" he asked, and when Alfred shook his head, he huffed. "Well, you better wait in the kitchen, I'll check if she's awake. Have a cup of coffee if you want to."

Alfred thanked him and sat down in the kitchen until he returned ten minutes later and gestured him in the direction of Betty's room. As Alfred entered, he found her flustered on a newly made bed. She was wearing jeans and a tee, and her makeup had been done quickly.

"If I knew you were coming, I would've made an effort," she said and ran her fingers through her unruly hair.

Alfred shook his head, "No matter, I just felt we needed to chat."

Either Betty knew the story, or she didn't want to know, because every time Alfred tried to brush upon the subject of his hallucinations, she changed the topic. He sat next to her on the bed, holding her hand while she told him of everything that had been going on in the past weeks. He learned of broken relationships and mended ones and completely new ones, of fights - of course, some of them included Gilbert - who got what grade on that one test. Just the important things.

He smiled and nodded along, feigning interest when needed, but inside, he felt annoyed. Why wouldn't she just listen to him and let him speak? Did she not care? He was chewing on his tongue when she finally turned and posed him a question,

"So where do you want to go?"

Alfred blinked, at loss. "Sorry?"

Betty rolled her eyes. "Are you listening? I said, we need to show them that nothing is different. Gilbert is in on it. Ivan is in on it. I can get some of the girls. Just, where do you want to go?"

Alfred still didn't know what to answer. "Wait, what do you mean when you say, nothing is different? Who do we need to show?"

Betty clucked her tongue. "You really weren't listening. Everyone's scared, Alfred, they think you're... I don't know." She shook her head, but Alfred had a feeling she knew exactly what everyone seemed to think. "They need to see you're just like before, normal, a great guy. Not some freak who sees things."

Alfred let go of her hand and looked away. 'It doesn't matter what I tell myself, they already deem me mad,' he thought.

"Oh don't be upset with me, I don't think you're a freak, it's their words," Betty blabbered, assured Alfred was irritated with her. He was, but for a different reason, and he swallowed his emotions and smiled at her.

"It's okay," he assured her and pulled out his mobile. "What about going to the aquarium? I haven't been for ages."

"Brilliant," Betty nodded and pulled out her phone as well. "Let's see, when do classes end..."

Alfred clicked on his own calendar and hesitated. His normal schedule was there - he'd put in all his classes, their start and end, and that was as always. Maths in the morning, biology in the afternoon. But a separate event had been created for the evening already. Movie.

"I'm going to the cinema?" Alfred mumbled.

Betty's head snapped up." Cinema? Even better! There's this new movie out-"

As she chatted, Alfred stared at the event. 'I don't remember making plans with anyone,' he thought. He tried to click and see details, but it wouldn't let him. Annoyed, he deleted the event and made a new one. He named it Date, and it made Betty smile when she saw it.

"I can't wait," she said, and Alfred pocketed his phone and smiled.

"Me neither."

* * *

" _Two days left."_

* * *

This time, Alfred was sure he heard a voice.

He sat up in bed and looked around, but there was no one in his room. He rubbed his forehead and groaned. "Do normal people wake up like this?" he asked. Of course, there was no answer his question.

The time was like the day before, barely six in the morning. He grabbed his mobile and walked downstairs to the kitchen, checking to see if Gilbert had replied about going out Monday. That's when he got an alert from his calendar, and a message popped up to remind him of his movie night. Alfred smiled and put the phone down to pour a glass of juice, but quickly retrieved the mobile when he realised what it had said.

" _Movie_  night?" he mumbled.

Alfred checked, and surely the Date event was gone and had been replaced with Movie. He grimaced and flipped through the weeks to see if he'd set the date wrong, but the event was nowhere to be seen. Someone had been messing around with his phone.

"I said,  _no_ ," he told the phone, deleting the event and setting up a new one. He locked his phone, opened it again, and made sure nothing had changed. It hadn't.

His mom came down the stairs, yawning. "Were you speaking to me?" she asked.

"No, it was nothing," Alfred replied and poured a glass of juice. "But I think I need a new phone."

* * *

" _One day left."_

* * *

"How sweet."

Alfred laughed as he approached school. By the gate, Betty, Gilbert, Ivan and Kiku stood, holding a banner between them. As they saw him, they stretched it out and started tooting. It read, Welcome Back. Other students passed by and some stopped and stared, and Alfred felt himself go red.

"He's blushing!" Gilbert shouted, and Ivan laughed.

"I hope I didn't embarrass you too much," Betty smiled and pecked his cheek as he joined them.

He put his arm around her shoulder and shook his head. "Nothing is more embarrassing that being friends with you guys."

"Thanks a lot."

Alfred smiled as they each walked to their classes. He should feel overjoyed. He had been looking forward to this moment all weekend. Coming back, seeing everyone, feeling like one of the guys again. Not just hanging around at home moping all day.

But his uneasiness had returned. The same dooming feeling which the doctors assured him would go away seemed settled in him like a permanent personality change. Everywhere he looked, he saw glimpses from his mad moments, and they intensified as they walked right past the bushes Arthur showed him that night. It replayed in his head, but he kept telling himself, 'It was not real, it was not real, it was not real.' Somehow, he made it past, and inside the building.

'I'm just put off because of my phone,' he assured himself as he settled behind Betty in class. Again this morning, he had awoken to the event Movie. The reminder wouldn't even turn off. It kept beeping, no matter how many times he tried deleting the event. In the end, he turned his phone off.

"Great to see you back, Alfred," the teacher spoke as she noticed him, and Alfred saluted her.

"I didn't want to miss any more of the excitement," he said, and the class snickered.

"Witty as always," she said, but she smiled. "Did you get time to brush up on your homework?"

"Doesn't matter if I did, I wouldn't have anyway."

"How refreshing to see you haven't changed." She turned to write on the blackboard, and Alfred leaned back in his chair, buzzing with satisfaction. He fitted right back in, and he thought that before long, these past weeks would be a long-gone memory.

Then his phone went off. At first, he didn't realise and looked around for the culprit, but soon everyone's eyes darted to his bag. The teacher turned back around and raised her brows. "Alfred?"

"Sorry, I was sure it was off," Alfred mumbled and stuck his hand into the bag. He pulled out his mobile and glared at the event. Movie.

'This is not right,' he thought, and Alfred felt sweat prickle at his skin. 'There is something going on.'

"I'm sure whatever's on that screen is very exciting, but unless you're going to read out loud, please turn it off."

Alfred switched off his phone and dropped it back into the bag. He turned around, red faced as everyone's eyes were once again on him, but he tried to play it off. "Sorry," he said, "just... another of my girls." The guys laughed, but Betty's eyes burned on him. He avoided her gaze and spent the rest of class focussed on the blackboard.

* * *

The water was cold on his face. Alfred dipped his whole head under the stream and breathed out.

"You look like shit."

Alfred had expected the voice, but he still jumped. He took his time make sure every inch of his face was soaking wet before pulling back out from under the tap. He glanced at Gilbert as he stood in the doorway to the loo, his face blank. "Funny, you said something similar to me not too long ago."

"Maybe you always look like shit?" he suggested and smiled.

Alfred grabbed some paper-towels and wiped himself off. He fumbled for his glasses, and Gilbert grabbed them off the sink and handed them to him. "Thanks."

"What's going on? I thought you came back because you felt better."

Alfred leaned up against the wall and looked at the crumbled paper in his hands. "I thought I was better. I woke up and was sure I was okay. I was so excited to just, you know, get back into routine. But here I am."

"Headaches?"

"No," Alfred shook his head and glanced toward the bathroom stall. He thought he heard a noise. 'Something worse than headaches.'

"If you need me to get the nurse-..." Gilbert let the offer hang in the air. He glanced in the direction Alfred was looking. "Someone in there?"

"I don't know," Alfred replied honestly.  _Bang_. There it was again. He looked at Gilbert, but his friend didn't seem to have heard anything. Still, as he caught Alfred's gaze, he stepped in between the cubicles and started opening them, one by one.

As he came closer to the last, Alfred's heartbeat started picking up. The last stall, the bully stall, the one he found a feather in. 'Perhaps Gilbert will find one too,' he thought, and for a moment, he wasn't sure whether to hope that would be true so that maybe he could believe him, or if it was better to find nothing at all. As his hand rested on the handle, Alfred breathed, "Wait," but Gilbert had already pushed the door open.

From the angle he stood, Alfred couldn't see anything. Gilbert's body shadowed the toilet. As the seconds passed, his heart beat so fast he was sure it was going to break his ribs. But then his friend stepped aside to reveal an empty stall. "No one," he said. He too must have felt the tense mood, because he winked at Alfred as he closed the door again. "Your secret is safe with me, officer."

"Get lost," Alfred said, but there was laughter in his voice.

"Well, I'll see you later," Gilbert said and strolled out the bathroom. He heard his voice as he called back at him. "Remember, cinema tonight!"

"Right, movies," Alfred mumbled and immediately grimaced at that word.  _Bang_. His head snapped back to the stall. He was certain he heard it this time. He peeked into the hallway, but Gilbert was already gone. It was just him.

'There's no one in there, you saw it yourself,' he thought, but he felt sick to his stomach. As he slowly approached the stall, he remembered the ninth feather. How it fell through the air. Just like the ones at Matthew's. 'It was all in my head,' he thought, then out loud, "It was all in my head." He grabbed the handle and pushed the stall open.

Arthur looked up at him. He stood in front of him, clear as day, with blood dripping from his lips and his left eye beat black. Alfred choked on his breath as he looked into his green eyes. Then he slammed the door shut with a scream.

In his haste to back away, he slipped on the floor and hammered onto his back. As he lifted himself back up, the door, due to his sheer force, bounced back off the metal frame and reopened, and revealed an empty stall.

For a second, Alfred just stared. Then he scrambled off the floor and ran.

The hallways seemed endless. He didn't know where to go. Everywhere was empty. One class had ended and another just begun. Alfred tried to remember his schedule, but in his shock, found himself unable to. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, withdrew it, and was welcomed by a pop-up event. Movie.

"Fuck you!" he shouted and smashed the phone to the floor. The pieces flew across the carpet, and he leaned up against the wall, gasping for air. That's when he heard talking.

"The break is over."

"No, no, let's pretend it's not."

With laughter, "Arthur..."

"That's my voice," Alfred mumbled and his eyes widened. He glanced around for the source of the chatting, and he saw a door standing ajar. As he approached it, the voices grew louder.

"Still up for movies tonight, right? It'll be fucking great!"

"Don't say fucking. Yeah, movies."

'Movies,' Alfred thought and looked at the mobile pieces.

"Cool. Watch out for yourself, right? Take the bus home. There's lots of people."

"Off you go. Don't worry. Go to class."

Alfred heard someone move across the classroom floor. He was right next to the door now and saw it move slightly as someone grabbed the handle from the inside. He knew who it was. He knew what he was going to see if he looked around the edge of the door, if he dared to peer into the classroom. But he kept telling himself, 'This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream.'

"Al!" the voice called, and Alfred pressed his chin to the wall and closed his eyes.

"Yea?" his voice replied, but from inside the room.

"I am not scared. Because in the end... it's just going to be you and me, right?"

The door opened. "Of course," the voice replied, and Alfred whispered along it, from out here just like he spoke from in there,

" _Just you and me._ "

Then he saw himself. He saw himself walk out of the classroom and past him. His other self seemed to glance at him, but he made no move, and there was no sign of recognition in his face. He walked on - further, past the toilets and toward the stairs. And Alfred, despite his legs shaking and his eyes filling with tears, followed, confused and scared and upset all at once. He stumbled alongside the wall and just reached the stairs in time to see two guys turn the corner and walk past the other Alfred.

They were grinning, "Al! Hey. Have you seen Arthur around?"

"Leave him alone."

"He's gay, you know?"

"I don't know," the other Alfred insisted, "Just leave him alone."

"I think he's up here."

The guys brushed past him, and Alfred watched them enter the classroom and shut the door. As he turned back, he saw the other Alfred looking in the same direction. 'Why aren't you following them?' he wanted to shout. 'Why aren't you doing anything!'

"Mr Jones, you're not skipping class again!" Alfred took a step down the stairs and saw his biology teacher standing at the end. For a moment, he was sure she was talking to the other Alfred - she was just another figment of his imagination. "To class, now," she demanded. And then Betty showed up behind her.

"Alfred, are you coming?" she asked, and the other Alfred walked down the stairs, past the teacher, past Betty, and straight into the classroom. But they still stood looking at him.

"You're talking to me?" Alfred said, surprised.

"I don't see anyone else," the teacher said and crossed her arms.

Betty wrinkled her brows. "Are you okay?" she asked, and he could read the concern in her eyes.

He took one more step down the stairs.

"Have you been crying?" she asked, and now even the teacher looked doubtful.

Alfred raised his hand to his cheek and felt the tears. "I..." he mumbled, unsure. "I..."

"Oh, Alfred," Betty moaned and moved to walk the stairs, but Alfred shook his head at her and backed away.

He climbed the steps backwards. "I'm sorry," he said, and stumbled on the last step. He turned in time to catch himself on his hands, and stood back up. For some reason, his legs didn't shake anymore. His vision wasn't blurred. For some reason, he thought clearly for the first time in weeks. For the first time since Arthur disappeared.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, his voice strong this time, "but I have to do something I should've done..." he laughed in disbelief, "I should've done  _three lifetimes_  ago."

Just like that, he turned and ran down the hallway. He heard Betty shout for him, but he kept running. The pieces of his mobile crunched under his shoes. His glasses started slipping off his nose. As he reached the door, he found it locked, but he didn't take a second to think. He stepped back, then hammered into it with his shoulder, breaking the lock and making it swing open.

Arthur - one eye black and his lips caked with blood - was being forced through the open window by the guys. They didn't see him. Perhaps he didn't even exist in their world. But Arthur saw him, and their eyes locked as he let go of the window and fell.

Alfred ran. He pushed through the tables and turned over chairs, and he had to jump not to stumble between the metal legs poking up everywhere in the mess he was creating. His knee got bruised, and something smacked onto his right arm. But in the moment, all he could focus on was Arthur's disappearing body. Like in slowmotion, the two guys stepped aside, one on each side of the window, and Alfred plunged right through the opening, one arm stretched, one hand secured around the frame.

His fingers closed around Arthur's wrist, and his body stopped dropping. He hung in the air, held by Alfred, and he looked up at him, reached up to close both hands around his arm, and he smiled,

"You finally saved me."

It took every bit of strength in him, but Alfred pulled him inside. Arthur stumbled onto the floor, but no sooner had he found his balance before he threw himself at Alfred. His arms wrapped around him, and he pressed his nose into his hair and laughed and cried at once.

Alfred held him, his eyes staring at nothing, as he tried to comprehend what was going on.

"How..." he asked. "How could you save me? How are we alive?" Arthur asked through his wailing.

"I don't-" Alfred started to speak, but as he hugged Arthur and smelt him, felt him, he somehow knew. He closed his eyes and smiled. "Are people evil, or misguided?" he mumbled.

Arthur pulled back to look him in the eyes. "What?"

Alfred wiped off his own tears before wiping Arthur's cheeks. "I didn't have to die," he said, "as long as you didn't."

"So is it true? Are we alive? Am... am  _I_  alive?" Arthur asked.

"I think so?" Alfred slid his hands down Arthur's cheeks, his shoulders, his arms, to his hands. Their fingers intertwined. "You seem real."

"I've seemed real before," Arthur reminded him.

"Only one way to find out."

* * *

Everything was the same, and everything was different. As they walked out into the hallway, there were no mobile pieces on the floor, and as they walked down the hallway, they met no one - no guys, no teacher, no Betty. Rather, they heard lively chatter from the biology classroom.

They stopped outside the door, and Alfred touched the handle. He looked back at Arthur who nodded. The door slipped open. The chatter stopped.

The teacher turned toward them. "Ah, Mr Jones, how nice of you to finally join." Alfred stepped inside, and Arthur followed slightly behind, his hand still in his. The teacher looked away but as no one sat down, she looked back at them. And she spoke, "Will you be joining us too, Mr Kirkland?"

Alfred didn't have to look to know his excitement. His fingers squeezed his so much it hurt. It was a good kind of pain, he decided.

"If I may," he said, his voice quiet.

"See if you can detangle yourself and have a seat. There appears to be an empty chair."

Alfred looked across the class and there, where Betty should be sitting, was an empty table and an empty chair. There were no signs of her - no bag, no jacket, nothing.

They slowly walked down the aisle of tables and sat down, Arthur in front, Alfred in back, and he was so bewildered, looking at how Arthur blushed and sat straight, eyed by everyone, that it took him a while to notice his mobile on the table.

An event popped up. Alfred checked. Movie. He looked at the back of Arthur's head and smiled, 'Just you and me.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story I started back in 2011 and only just finished two years ago in 2016. I forgot to upload it to here originally, so just adding it to keep my works together. If you're a first time reader, I hope you enjoyed it!


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